


Good Omens Oneshots

by FoggedFantasy



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Character Death, F/M, Falling In Love, Falling from Heaven, Fear, Forbidden Love, Gen, Hiding, Longing, M/M, Multi, Songfic, Speech Disorders
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2020-05-13 07:59:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 112
Words: 40,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19247071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoggedFantasy/pseuds/FoggedFantasy
Summary: A collection of one shots for Good Omens. There's a wide variety of things, and in general, the length of them get a little bit longer the further in you are (although they are generally under 1000 words). The relationships are in the entry titles. Italicized phrases at the beginning are likely prompts from @onlytrashdrawshere on Instagram. If you like these, I'm doing a vampiric one shot series at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20117650





	1. Aziraphale/Crowley: First Meeting

The first time they touched, Aziraphale understood Eve’s sin. He understood temptation and curiosity. He understood wanting to sin.

Crowley felt the hand on him and he couldn’t help but wish he had hung out with a crowd like Aziraphale instead of sauntering downwards. It’s not like he didn’t like evil, but… it’s not like he didn’t like good. And Aziraphale was good. He wanted to do better.

After one touch, and these thoughts started, intertwining their destinies as they tugged each other back and forth, content in knowing that both of them were winning if they spent time.


	2. Aziraphale/Crowley: Bad dancing is still worth it

Az looked at the hand, hesitantly taking it. Crowley was charming and suave and amazing at dancing. He pulled him into a gavotte, keeping in mind Az’s proficiencies. Only Crowley could make dancing fun… only he could make it work. He was glad he was here.


	3. Aziraphale/Crowley: Sin vs Cocoa

Crowley’s eyes scanned the angel he’d pushed back in his chair. It was day 5 of cocoa abandonment, and he knew just the solution. He faced the chair so that he could get in position. “Did I ever show you what I learned in Latin America?” He growled softly in Aziraphale’s ear.

The angel’s cheeks started to warm. “Are you intending to distract me, dear boy?” He asked, but when the thin hips swung ever-so-magnificently, straddling his hips like he was a bucking bronco, he found his mind more willing to relent for a pause. His body could be very convincing, and so could Crowley’s.


	4. Aziraphale/Crowley: Whispers

Crowley loved being in the back of the board meetings, leaning over, and whispering to Aziraphale. They all tended to be naughty, it was just a question of how so. Depending on the how chosen, Crowley either got a whisper back, scolding him, a whisper back flirting with him, or a sharp pinch on the bottom with a promise that if he wasn’t good Aziraphale would be forced to punish him.

Aziraphale secretly loved those whispers, though, even if his holier than thou persona forbid him from admitting it.


	5. Aziraphale/Crowley: Bite

All it took was one bite for Aziraphale to quit stumbling and utterly just fall in love with Crowley. He didn’t expect for such a thing to do it, he’d never thought himself a glutton for pain, but it was as though his bite was vampiric, putting the angel into a spell. And even past that day, those biting, scathing remarks coupled with a bratty attitude, well, it was all he needed to need to stay with Crowley. Although, even though he was being bitten (sometimes with biting words instead of actions) he always found himself coming back eagerly.


	6. Aziraphale/Crowley: Opposites

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the reverse AU from @onlytrashdrawshere (on Instagram)

For all these years both Crowley and Aziraphale had thought they had found their perfect opposite. And they had found their perfect, but their opposite happened to lie in the reversed versions of themselves. Crowley’s had never fallen, and Aziraphale’s dug his hole down with a zeal that made one wonder just how the reverse pairings had found their perfects either. And yet it all worked out.


	7. Aziraphale/Crowley: Reverse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the reverse au from @onlytrashdrawshere on Instagram

The devil of Aziraphale smirked as thin fingers curled over his coffee. He listened to the interviewers, thinking his opposing pair a bit soft for preferring cocoa. And no, cinnamon did nothing to make it any edgier. His own Crowley sat beside him on a plush couch, his warm little hands wrapped around a cute mug. Inside was his heavily sweetened coffee… He softened a bit. He was such a good, sweet little boy. He ran a hand down the back of his head to pet his hair, before turning to the interviewer and speaking clearly.

The angel of Aziraphale’s cocoa was supported by plump hands as he sipped it for the warmth. The interviewer spoke of the craziness, asking about the pair of twins and what had made them so long lost, and how had they found the other twin for their love life? It was so crazy! However, the angel knew reality was crazier and lied in a merging of universes. He looked over to his own Crowley, who had seemed pretty discontented with the whole situation, which Aziraphale chose to take as heartwarming in the sense of that he preferred Aziraphale’s current angelic being. He gently squeezed Crowley’s hand for a moment, opening his mouth to speak, but his doppelganger spoke first. He joined in with supplementary information, trying to fix the interview. At least he had his favorite being beside him through these difficulties. And at least he was being good...


	8. Aziraphale/Crowley: Warm and Cold Hands

Aziraphale’s hands were always warm. Plump fingers helped maintain this warmth, but also the angel’s natural aura was warm, such as God's love for him. Even so, sometimes he ran a bit hot, especially on choking summer days. 

It was at these times that Crowley’s cold heart came to shine. His blood ran cooler, making his hands freezing, and he was always glad to warm them- especially on his favorite angel. 

And somewhere within both the hot and the cold they both found their perfect, happy equilibrium.


	9. The Them (polyamorous): Domestic

The Them had aged, and the childlike sparks had died down a bit more, settling into a domestic flame that warmed their hearts. And while it didn’t quite zap their attention with violent interestingness, it was nicer, settled, and safe. It was a transition they thought they’d hate and yet they loved it anyway.


	10. Aziraphale/Crowley: Stargazing

Crowley looked up at the heavens, sighing as he held Aziraphale’s hand. 

“So why are you showing me Heaven’s tattoos?” He asked softly.

Aziraphale blushed. “I wanted to tell you some stories… I thought this might be romantic… it was in a book.”

“Of course it was… Okay then, angel, what’s the story?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale gave in, showing him the constellations and telling stories. Soon Crowley became invested, and he found himself endeared to his adoring, and piercing eyes that hungered for more of his words.


	11. The Them: Getting Lost Together

The Them trekked through the forest, letting themselves wander without a map or cares. It had been forever since they’d gotten lost in nature together, and they’d missed it. It was fun to point out all the oddities and to find all the secret niceties that the world had to offer. It was also… nostalgic. They weren’t kids anymore, but when they were they had loved this, and it was nice to find out that they still did.

And even though they ended up really lost- so lost they had to call someone to come help find them (and then Adam had to call on Aziraphale and Crowley to help miracle them out), it was a perfect day filled with old satisfactions.


	12. Michael/Lucifer: The first to fall

It all had started with lingering gazes. These things tend to because when the eyes are trapped on someone they are intrigued by, the mind tends to fixate on said person. Of course, when a mind fixates too long, these lingering gazes can translate into lingering touches.

Lucifer knew that he was going to fall. He had done the math. He knew that ultimately he wanted to be the highest rank. In heaven, he could only hope for second highest, and Michael, the one he had grown to fixate on, wanted that position. Besides… between the two of them, Lucifer knew that he was more sinful. He was vain, and he was lustful.

And so Lucifer planned it all up to the moment he would descend like a rocket into the deepest depths of Hell. He knew that he wanted to spend the last moments he would see Michael in a way that would at least grant him some level of closure. It may be selfish to want him close before he fell, but he didn’t mind if he’d be spending near eternity apart from him anyway. That sort of suffering deserved some selfishness to soothe it.

The day rolled around sooner than Lucifer would have wished. It seemed like the days had just disintegrated beforehand, and he almost fell into his target day to fall. It was nervewracking. He wished he hadn’t been so caught up in paperwork… that he had enjoyed it. He didn’t think about that enough at the time though… he supposed it was a hanging man’s clarity.

Even so, he took advantage of the small clarity he had, snagging Michael away for one last night. He talked with him about anything but what was going to happen, and evaded topics of the future, preferring talking about the now or the past or just… Michael and who he was. It was a night that Michael didn’t realize needed to happen. It was a night where he found himself falling closer and closer to Lucifer as they talked about everything they had in common. He’d never felt so connected to anyone before… and when it ended, it ended with Lucifer suddenly standing and grabbing Michael’s face gently, pressing a firm kiss to his lips.

“I love you more than you could know, and please know that even though my actions may not make sense, they are in part in an attempt to serve you,” Lucifer said afterward, Michael remaining frozen for a few moments in shock.

“What do you-?” Michael began to ask after he recovered, wanting to ask about the kiss, but the cryptic words were more important.

Lucifer took a breath, looking at Michael regretfully before he spoke, his voice becoming loud and deep. “I want to become God. I relinquish my oath to the holy in the name of the opposition of good.” 

And with one simple statement, his lifetime before meant nothing, and he was the first angel to descend into Hell.


	13. Michael/Lucifer: I missed you over five minutes

_ "There you are! I missed you!” _ Lucifer grinned, taking Michael’s arm and grabbing his ice cream.

_ "It’s been five minutes,”  _ Michael scoffed, chuckling. “But… honestly? It’s been so long that I missed you too.”

Lucifer paused, feeling a wave of guilt. He hadn’t felt guilt in… well… he slowly was realizing that he felt guilt whenever he thought of Michael. Demons didn’t feel guilt much, and… Michael brought it out of him. He looked down, squeezing his arm. “Yes...it’s been too long. But you’re with me now, and that’s what matters most.”

Michael blinked, softening a bit at Lucifer. “Yes… Let’s eat our ice cream and walk around together, alright?” He gently moved a piece of Lucifer’s hair behind his ear, kissing his forehead. He was here with him now… that’s what he just needed to remember.

 


	14. Michael/Lucifer: "Don't leave me again."

_ "Don't leave me again,”  _ Michael practically begged and it cut Lucifer down to the core to hear it.

“We're at war, Michael… I can't abandon all of my men… I missed you, and I want this, but unless you want to fall, I can't stay. I can meet up with you when the war is quiet- and I want to, but I've chosen my path.”

Michael looked at him, his heart begging him to just… “What if I fell?” He proposed.

Lucifer looked at him. The strategist in him screamed yes, but… he didn't know if Michael ought to fall. “I…”

“It's a warzone no matter what side I'm on. I'd be happier fighting with you… seeing you, than fighting against you. It's the best it can be. If I can't drag you up, drag me down. We'll lose together.”

“Michael, falling isn't nothing.”

“It's not. But you were the first to fall and you fell alone. I have you beside me, I'll be fine.”

“Are you sure? This isn't a thing to hastily decide on.” 

“I've been thinking about this for 6,000 years.”

Lucifer reluctantly nodded, and with one small phrase Michael's life changed.


	15. Michael/Gabriel: Spying (Implied Aziraphale/Crowley)

“It’s been forever,” Gabriel complained softly. He would have left ages ago if their platonic stalking of this platonic date wasn’t a guise for him to attempt to get closer and go onto a sort of date of their own.

“I know I know, it’s been forever and I love and hate them so much,” Rafael sighed, upset as Aziraphale patted Crowley’s cheek instead of kissing it.

“I know.. You really seem fixated on this couple,” Gabriel said.

“They have a strong energy,” Rafael said softly


	16. Michael/Lucifer: Northern Downfall (Panic! at the Disco) Songfic

Lucifer stared down at the downpour from the utter north. He wondered if Michael was ever crying over him. He wondered what the heavens cried about. And even so, even when rain fell on the demons, it never hurt them, and sometimes, Lucifer felt a great sense of love and… even pity. The pity could be frustrating, but… Hell wasn’t a place of love, and sometimes the simplest tug on his emotions would send him careening into a place of tears. He wished he hadn’t been so bitter. He wished he had let love into Hell.

A drop fell on his nose, and he nearly found himself brought to tears. His mind wavered, dragging his numb consciousness into the past, knowing that he didn’t know how to resist. His eyes closed for a moment, not finding anything in the human realm to be a threat, and suddenly Michael was there.

“If all of this is a creation of God,” the other Archangel had begun. “And we are all in his dream, fulfilling his simulation, then there should be no need for greed, right? It’s all an ineffable plan.”

Lucifer looked down. His fate at night’s end was lingering on his mind, but he didn’t want to allude to it for fear Michael might catch on and try to stifle himself for his sake. That would be true selfishness… Lucifer could personally handle greed just fine, but selfishness was another boat. “I think it’s a tool. I think it’s all a tool. Everything. But I mean… Here’s what I want to know… how did God… become God? What, does some stroke of genius kiss his forehead in the night and decide who he’ll be? Or does he crawl his way up? I personally have to believe the latter… it takes a lot of work… you would need someone ambitious… but he’s made a lot of ambitious people is all.” As soon as he spoke his words caught in his lungs and he almost felt like he was drowning, going a step too far. Beyond that, his heart bled inside his chest, but his eyes couldn’t catch up to cry so they just stuttered and blinked away at tears that just couldn’t break the barrier to be released.

And yet that Northern boy met his eyes. “You’re thinking a lot,” he murmured, concerned. Lucifer knew he was concerned. The patron saint of protectors… of course he would be. “Lucifer,” He began. “I don’t think anyone can become God… I think… I think there’s just this one. And even if there isn’t, I don’t think anyone can ascend to meet him. So there’s no use in thinking about it, even if they are ambitious.” Michael gently went to grab his hand, and Lucifer knew that it had to be his subconscious trying to gate him in and keep him… It was trying to do the best it could for Lucifer, but it was just a shame that Lucifer knew what was best in the end already.

Even so, even if Michael was concerned, talking with him was his last treat, and he secretly hoped that the night would last for eternity.

Another drop of rain fell onto his nose and Lucifer wiped it off, blinking. Now back in the real world, he was beginning to notice the rain was subsiding, and he found himself missing it. He sighed, closing his eyes. There was nothing left to do on Earth, he had stayed for the rain, and so he descended back to Hell, the heat instantly drying him off to his regret. 

And he went to work. The memory had reminded him at least of his vigor and tenacity. As he scribbled upon the pages and let the ink leave a trail to forget the past on, but it didn’t work for long, and once more he was left dreaming of past days.

As Lucifer worked, Michael watched the earth, wiping memory-soaked tears away. He didn’t need or want Lucifer to remember his past words- those damning words, and when he was on Earth Michael often found himself making rainstorms in hopes that he might just relax and stay on Earth a little longer. He should know that it wouldn’t work, however. Lucifer had always been too ambitious, and even soothing thoughts of their past and of his former home wouldn’t keep him any place unconducive to his goals for long. Even heaven couldn’t do that.

Even so, it was always nice to see Lucifer when he arrived on Earth, and even if he may not stay for long, Michael was glad to at least let his emotions and tears send the message of a memory- even if Lucifer never received them.


	17. Michael/Lucifer: This is Gospel (Panic! at the Disco) Songfic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italicized bits are lyrics

_ This is gospel, for the fallen ones, locked away in permanent slumber, assembling their philosophies from pieces of broken memories. _

Michael looked down from the heavens, wishing that he had one last night… one last night that he knew. He in his hands lay a miniature notebook, filled up with amateur gospel songs for Lucifer and the hopes that maybe one day he could come back and be lifted up to reunite with him.

Lucifer ascended up from Hell, and Michael let his eyes fill with tears. The rains beat down, and the second a drop touched his skin Lucifer felt that sadness, and he saw for a moment the gospel songs that Michael had written. He looked up at the sky, wondering if he met his eyes.

“Michael, if you love me, let me go.” He said definitively. He figured Michael must want to, deep down inside he must. Every time Lucifer came up to Earth Michael cried. And those gospel songs… he must be in pain. He would rather Michael be free of him and happy. It hurt him more to see the man he loved in such a state. Besides, they never dated, they were never each others’ anyway. It was… it was residual sadness from both of them from a non-relationship at best. Michael could have something better.

Michael looked down, the words a searing knife dissecting his heart, but it wasn’t even with malice. It was just… it was with stone-cold assuredness in the facts. Usually, Michael was on the giving side of those analytically harsh truths, not that he felt this was a truth. The tears dropped to the clear ground where he saw Lucifer, and he wiped them away for a look at his love. He knew that they didn’t have much. He knew they hadn’t seen each other. But to… to give up entirely… he was scared to let their relationship entirely fall apart. He was scared to stop crying desperate messages to the only man he ever thought he could love.

Lucifer immediately felt the waves of pain from Michael’s crying, and he was nearly dizzy at the intensity. It was a lot. “Please, Michael, it’s for your own good,” he said weakly, steadying himself against a wall.

Michael nearly flinched at those words, pulling up one of his songs.  _ “This is gospel for the vagabonds, Ner-do-wells, insufferable bastards. Confessing their apostasies, led away by imperfect impostors,” _ He sang to him, his voice entirely filled with emotions. He knew that Lucifer had been lead away by something faulty (he could only guess an idea or emotion that he couldn’t shake), but now the line took on a new light. Lucifer kept trying to apologize, or do right by Michael by pushing himself further from him. And while originally the line had gone “insufferable mockers”, after Lucifer’s words Michael needed to change it due to the current update. He needed to release this pain, but even as he released it, he knew that deep down he wanted Lucifer. Lucifer was trying, and he was taking all the wrong steps, but… Michael loved him so deeply that he knew that whatever pain Lucifer would inflict, not having him would be worse.

That’s why he was so scared of them falling apart, he realized, and the epiphany only made his battered heart break a little more.

Lucifer closed his eyes as he heard Michael sing, tears forcing themselves to his eyes before he could miracle them away. He felt the pain, and he felt the longing. It was deep-seated, and it reminded Lucifer of his own feelings. It reminded him of why it was so hard to keep trying to protect Michael from himself. He just wanted to be weak. Ever since he fell, he wanted to be weak. He used to have Michael to protect him and watch over him, but… But he knew he was wrong. He knew Michael deserved better. He knew he had to keep trying to keep him from falling too, or from sadness over him.

However, even with the overwhelming sadness and longing, upon further inspection, Lucifer found a core of fear. Once he felt it through these tears of raindrops, and finally realized that that was indeed fear, his mind blanked. It was… upsetting. Michael shouldn’t be afraid. Lucifer was doing everything to protect him, and yet… He looked up to the sky.

“Please don’t cry, Michael, don’t be scared. I don’t know why you’re feeling this way, but Michael, I’m just trying to help you get what you deserve. And you deserve something better than me. I- please,” Lucifer began, but the fear intensified and he gasped sharply. “Michael,” he said softly. “Don’t be scared, I’m not- I-I’m trying not to hurt you. I don’t know what to do, Michael,” He said softly, canceling the noise to the world around. He couldn’t let anyone but Michael know he was weak, and… he couldn’t let anyone but Michael know that he missed when the other would take care of him and help. He felt like he was drowning in responsibilities daily now.

Michael stared down, the tears falling freely, but the fear was no longer the main emotion. Now they were bittersweet. He wished he could tell Lucifer what to do, but he didn’t even know himself. “Stay,” he said, unsure that the message would transmit. Either way, he knew that Lucifer wouldn’t be able to, nor would he be able to come back.

Lucifer closed his eyes. He knew he spoke, but the rain was crashing down to the Earth now, and sending an entirely new message without any ties to any memories was often impossible so it was very soft. Even so, he felt the bittersweetness that mirrored his own and all of the emotions were too much.

“I can’t take this, Michael, I can’t,” he said softly, miracling an umbrella up before he began to do business, wiping at his eyes. It always hurt to come to Earth.

 


	18. Aziraphale/Crowley: Pretty/Drunk

_ "I think you're very pretty,"  _ Aziraphale said finally, his heart pounding. He’d never confessed to Crowley that he liked him.

_ "I think you're very drunk,”  _ Crowley retorted, his mind a blurry haze.

_ "And tomorrow when I'll be sober, you'll still be pretty,”  _ Aziraphale whispered stubbornly. “You always will be, Crowley. You’re beautiful, inside and out, and even if I don’t always agree, I will always find you to be that.”

Crowley melted a little bit, flustered. “I’m a demon,” He said softly.

“Yes, the prettiest one. And quite possibly the goodest one,” Aziraphale murmured.

Crowley blushed. “Okay,” he gave in, letting them be drunk.


	19. Uriel/Asmodeus: "I love you." "I'm sorry"

_ "I love you,”  _ Uriel said softly, smirking at the lust demon in front of him. He loved to fluster him.

_ "I'm sorry,"  _ Asmodeus said as an instinct before his heart caught the words and started pounding. “I- wait what? You? What?”

Uriel chuckled softly. “You sinful little demon, I love you. You’ll understand soon enough,” he said softly, utterly admiring him.

Asmodeus flushed. “If… you think, angel,” he muttered grumpily. “I’m not stupid.”

“No, you aren’t,” Uriel agreed. “You were just unloved,” he said softly. “But you aren’t anymore,” he added, kissing his cheek.

Asmodeus softened, his heart warm. “Okay then,” he said softly.


	20. Uriel/Asmodeus: Trust

Asmodeus looked up at Uriel, the other angel hyper-vigilant. He hadn’t often had a lover that thought of after-care as an opportunity rather than a chore. He closed his eyes as a thumb brushed at his cheek. 

“Are you okay?” Uriel asked softly, sitting beside him slowly to pull him in his lap. 

Asmodeus blushed, cuddling up to him. “Yeah…” He said softly, and he sighed as Uriel pet his hair, humming and watching over him. Maybe this was a man he could grow to trust.


	21. Aziraphale/Crowley: An Embarrassing Crush

_ "You used to have a crush on me, Az? That's so embarrassing,"  _ The demon chuckled, but he was grinning throughout it.

_ "Crowley, we're married,” _ Aziraphale said, flipping through a page in the newspaper casually.

Crowley paused. “But you still had a crush.”

“Isn’t that the first step?”

“Embarrassing,” Crowley pouted and sipped his tea, trying to maintain his fragile victory.

 


	22. Aziraphale/Crowley & Michael/Gabriel: I Do Adore Songfic

Az looked at his demon, his dearest. Even when he was troublesome he still found himself deep in love with Crowley. In fact, when he wasn’t troublesome he often found himself flustered, his mind bursting into impassioned flames that always caught him into a spiral of distraction. He’d tripped many times due to Crowley unexpectedly complimenting him.

He sighed, a slight smile blossoming on his face. Even thinking about those moments he grew tense, and though he’d seen Crowley flustered many times, he always thought the other to be smooth and relaxed in comparison. Aziraphale helped worry to take care of the both of them, but it was more than worth it, especially since Aziraphale knew that he could never live without his demon.

Crowley looked over at the sigh. “What are you thinking about, my angel?” He asked gently.

Aziraphale nearly melted. A few millennia and it all still felt like puppy love. “Just you, my love,” He said softly, relishing in the way Crowley’s cheeks tinted red and how he went to more vigorously focus on his work.

“Don’t say that like that,” Crowley said softly, a bit embarrassed in the best way.

***

 

Michael looked at the two, sighing softly as he thought of his own demonic love. They were opposites, and while they complemented each other quite nicely, Michael knew that they would never have a puppy love the same way that Aziraphale and Crowley did. Their love… it was darker and rawer and more troubled. Their love was bittersweet and painful and he had to cry to even maintain semblances of communication and that broke his heart. But even so… he was still committed to Lucifer, and he knew that he always would be, because deep down, Lucifer was more than worth it to him.


	23. The Them (Polyamorous): "I miss when we were kids"

“I miss when we were kids,” Pepper said softly. “Because we were always together… and I know that people die… and you know that too… but… I just never expected them to die. I don’t know why, but… when we were all together up on cloud nine it felt like we were untouchable. And I think we all felt safe with you.”

Adam teared up, kissing Pepper’s hand. He still looked middle-aged, and fairly young at that, despite the fact that Pepper was well into her eighties. It hurt to think that by now she nearly spent half a life without Wensleydale. It hurt more to think that he’d spent that time without him too. “But I couldn’t protect you.”

“Of course you couldn’t, Adam. People… we die...  But eventually, we’ll be together again… at least, that’s what I like to hope.”

Adam sniffled, wiping at his eyes. “I won’t see you. I want to. I’ll miss you.”

“You will… talk to Aziraphale, I know he’ll think something up… but… it’s not your fault, and it’s not our fault. It’s okay… it’s a part of life. And it’s been so hard to accept, especially knowing that mine will be over soon-”

Adam opened his mouth to protest, but she gently squeezed his hand.

“ _ But _ I’ve grown to realize that it’s all okay. It’s a part of life… and… I’ve had one of the best damn runs there ever was, even with all the pain. And that’s because I’ve had 3 of the most amazing boys by my side… and you’re one of them. So thank you, Adam. Thank you for making my life so good.”

Tears were slowly spilling down Adam’s cheeks. “I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want you to die.”

“You won’t. Even if Aziraphale can’t bring us back you’ll find someone new-” Pepper began, but Adam gasped and held back a wail with a pained almost squeak of a sound.

“I don’t want anybody new. I just- I want you for. The Them… That’s all I want.”

“Adam… this world holds more beauty than just us four. I’m not saying it will happen, but…. But if you can’t find us for a while… Please look for the beauty in the world, okay?”

Adam gently just hugged her, trying and failing to hold back sobs as he was faced with the mortality of the last of Them.


	24. Polution and War and Famine: Sharing a bed trope

Pollution looked between War and Famine. “Do… is this… normal?”

“Well, we generally share a bed, and besides,  you don’t want Pestillance’s old one before it gets cleaned, right?” Famine patted between them expectantly.

Pollution grew awkward. “Ah, I just… thought that there would be more beds.”

“Yes I know, crazy bed shortage, sorry we didn’t think about it,” said War, who was not sorry and was actually grateful. “Come on now,” She patted the bed.

Pollution gave an awkward smile. “Uhm, are you sure you two don’t want to sleep closer and I be on the outside?”

“Oh no, we both like the ends of the beds. We wouldn’t want you to fall off,” Famine said, tempting Pollution with another bed pat.

The younger gave an awkward look, sighing. “Okay,” He crawled into bed warily, slowly settling in between them as they both tucked him in, doting on him in separate, but flirtatiously affectionate ways.   
Eventually, he grew tired, comforted by their attentive softness, and he fell asleep a contented man.

 


	25. Death/Pestillence: Cheating and cheated

_ "I win." _ Pestilence snickered at Death.

_ NO, PESTILENCE, I BELIEVE YOU CHEATED. _

_ "I win,”  _ Pestilence maintained, grinning wide. “After all, you wouldn’t call sickly, forgetful, old me a liar, would you?” He teased.

MUST I, PESTILENCE? Death asked, as though pained.

Pestilence laughed. “Must you what?” He joked.

OH STOP IT, YOU, said Death, knowing that it was all going to get worse.

Pestilence chuckled. “Okay, okay, I may have swapped an extra card or two…”

SIX WAS MY COUNT.

“Oh, six?” He asked innocently. “Oh goodness I didn’t know I did that many,” He snickered.

YOU’RE A DEVIL, Death maintained.

“Your devil, though,” Pestilence said, a little smirk playing upon his scarred up and chapped lips.

YES. MY FAVORITE DEVIL OF ALL. Death added, a bit soft. He knew he was dying, and Pestilence thought it was just a bit of absentmindedness. But so was the start. He’d know with enough time. Death would have him for enough time longer… if there ever could be enough time. I LOVE YOU. Death added, needing to say it to relieve some emotion.

“I love you too, Azrael,” Pestilence giggled, and Death let it go, instead gently moving to “kiss” his forehead. 

He could only hope that one day when it all was over Pestilence would remember that he was loved by someone… someone that he loved too.

 


	26. War/Pollution: Cuddle me

_ "Cuddle me?”  _ Pollution asked softly, looking to War. He felt safe and comfortable here… comforted. He didn’t want her to leave.

_ "Aww, am I not giving you enough attention?"  _ She cooed softly, brushing away some hair from his eyes as she pulled him closer, holding him against her and letting her bosom engulf him a little bit.

He blushed a bit, feeling utterly lethargic. “No, you’re… doing more than enough, but… I like it, and I feel safe here. I think I’m just greedy, but I want you to cuddle me close,” he said truthfully, his tired eyes meeting hers.

War softened, gently leaning down and kissing his cheek.”You’re too cute, Pollution,” she said warmly, nuzzling him. “I’ll keep you close… you feel free to rest.”

Pollution smiled slightly, nodding. “Thank you,” He murmured, beginning to doze off with her.

 


	27. Metatron/Beelzebub: Flowers and Bullshit

_ "I got you flowers,"  _ Metatron said awkwardly. It was the date they were set up to be on, and he was nervous.

Beelzebub began to sneeze, mad at him.

_ "I'm sorry, are you allergic?"  _ Asked Metatron, not sure what was happening.

_ "Yeah but to your bullzzzzhit, not the flowerzzzzz," _ Beelzebub deadpanned, taking them anyway. He did like flowers… stupidly… He was still mad though. Metatron liked to correct and interject for him, and he wanted to be independent. 

“Oh,” said Metatron, unsure of how to react to such a display. “Do you like the flowers?”

Beelzebub grumbled. “Yezzzz,” He practically buzzed.

“Okay… what do you mean by my bullshit?” He asked, feeling naughty to swear.

“You keep interrupting me and zzzzzzzzz-zzzpeaking for me! Itzzzzzz fruzzzzzzzzzzztrating! I can do my own job you know!”

Metatron paused. “Oh…” He said softly, rubbing his hands. “I just wanted to help make it easier.”

“Yezzzzzzzzzz well I can zzzzzzzzzzzzzpeak for myzzzzzelf!” he maintained stubbornly.

“Of course… of course… I’ll stop doing that. I didn’t know,” Metatron said, feeling bad. He was so interested in the prospect of a date with Beelzebub and it was already going poorly. “Why don’t you show me some wine or something?” He asked, deciding he’d let him tempt and corrupt him as a penance for his hurtful actions.

And the offering did help. Beelzebub slowly grew into instructing Metatron and teaching him, gaining some confidence back, which helped keep his buzzing shorter and his attitude more open. Metatron was utterly thankful he gave in and let him have that, it was more than worth the price of a better date.


	28. Metatron and Raphael (Metatron/Beelzebub implied): Covered

_ "What's that mark on your neck?" _ Raphael asked, knowing exactly what it was and who it was from, but he wanted to protect Metatron from his own ignorance.

_ "What ma- oh. Oh shit,” _ The Archangel blushed, popping his collar for quick defense. “I didn’t know we got these,” He blurted, panicking a bit. And he would be speaking soon.

Raphael chuckled. How naive… “Of course we do. Here, it’s concealer. I’ll cover you this once,” He helped apply it, chuckling. “I’m guessing you had fun with your counterpart?” He asked suggestively.

Metatron flushed at that. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t, I wouldn’t,” Raphael chuckled, finishing up and fixing his collar. “We’ll have to talk about this stuff later. I know you have a meeting now, though,” He said.

Metatron nodded nervously, unsure what to think before he scrambled off to the stage.

 


	29. Sexual Tension (Michael/Lucifer implied)

_ "Raphael, Michael and Lucifer are filling the room with sexual tension again!" _ Adam complained, upset that another date was foiling the dates around them.

_ "Again? Tell them to get a room!”  _ Raphael tutted disapprovingly. It was understandable, but that didn’t make it acceptable. “Sheesh, I can’t believe they haven’t already solved that problem.”

“I know right,” said Adam, making Raphael fully regret speaking so openly. “Well I guess I’ll go tell-”

“You know maybe I ought to,” Raphael cut in, patting Adam’s head gently. “Yes, yes, okay, how nice,” He said, going to deescalate the problem.

 


	30. Michael/Lucifer: Outside of plans

_ "Well, this didn't go as planned,”  _ Michael said, pulling Lucifer just a little bit further on his chest as his love smoked a long cigarette. The cigarette itself stunk with sin, but so did the sex from seconds ago, so he couldn’t complain. It at least had a sharpness to cut the heavy lust that had plagued them for millennia.

“Oh don’t tell me you regret it,” Lucifer said after a drag, letting himself be adjusted so that he laid against Michael’s heart. It was romantic in a hazy sort of way. He took another drag and blew some pale smoke into the air above him, letting it coil and curl like their toes just moments before.

“I don’t,” Michael said quickly. “I just… I didn’t expect to ever… especially with you… I’m glad. It was more than I had hoped it would be. You’re very good,” he said sheepishly.

Lucifer smiled softly. “You were good too. A bit unconfident, and learning, but good. You tried. You must have been motivated,” He said, lazily cupping his face and exchanging a smoke-flavored kiss to seal the memory. “Maybe I can teach you more sometime,” he murmured as he pulled away.

“You should,” Michael maintained, meeting his eyes and letting love pool into his gaze. He revelled in Lucifer melting at that.

“I will if you let me,” he said eventually, smiling softly and kissing him once more. It was a perfect night. They deserved a perfect night after it all.


	31. Pepper/Wensleydale: I fucked up

_ "I fucked up,"  _ Pepper said, grabbing Wensleydale’s arm as she speed-walked away from an interview.

_ "Oh, what did you do this time?"  _ He asked, a little bit weary as he let her drag him along.

“I got in a whole argument about the glass ceiling after asking why the company’s whole board of directors is men.”

“Oh, Pepper,” Wensleydale sighed.

“Well, it’s better than that time you had to find someone in  your firm to represent me in court because  _ apparently- _ ”

Wensleydale interrupted. “It’s a conflict of interests. Come on, Pepper, you gotta play nice at work.”

She grumbled. “I miss being a tyke. Could always tell people how it was and how the world was. He didn’t have to argue, he coulda agreed and said I could be the next up there.”

“Oh, Pepper,” Wensleydale sighed. “I know, and it’s not right, but you can fight your way up after you charm your way in. Change is easier when they’re invested in you, and you’re easy to invest in. You're passionate and a hard worker, so just give them the benefit of the doubt and try to change them when you’re in.”

Pepper groaned. “Maybe you’re right, but I want them to charm me. I’m so mad about this shit.”

“I know, I know,” Wensleydale sighed. “But it’ll all be okay eventually,” he said. “You’ll get there and we’ll get there. Now let’s go to the next one, and if they’re jerks let’s at least earn the ability to say no to them and laugh.”

Pepper smiled at that. “That sounds good, Wensley,” she said, finding that speech very well suited to her. He was good with words.


	32. Brian/Wensleydale (Implied Polyamorous The Them): Closer

“Closer,” Brian urged, wrapping an arm around Wensleydale and dragging him closer as he lead the other boy to the tree house. This was the closest they’d been since the mostly mutual confession, and Wensleydale still hadn’t admitted his feelings either way. Normally, he wouldn’t force the other boy to come closer due to that, but he knew Wensleydale tended to catch illnesses and he couldn’t let that happen. He hated when he had to be away.

Wensleydale tensed up slightly as he was tugged closer, shielded entirely under the umbrella now that he was practically entirely in Brian’s arms. His mind swam with romantic implications that utterly confused him and made him nervous. He didn’t mind gay people, he didn’t, but… he was so nervous to commit to that idea. He was scared, too. He heard bad things could happen, like parents abandoning them or people hating them or bullying them or killing them. And though in Tadfield the other three seemed to be doing alright, his mind still muddled it, clouding the likelihood that he would be alright. Besides, he hadn’t thought about orientation much. When he was little it was just whoever he liked mattered. Now as he grew older the definition of like was beginning to mutate into romance and sex rather than friendship. It was overwhelming. It was as though as soon as he began to grow up into such romantic and sexual fantasies, his mind became muddled with concerns over his old friend group and his orientation. 

He would have loved a bit more time to adjust. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t love them, either. It was just, he didn’t know what to think of himself yet, or who he was. He didn’t know if his feelings were true or confused, and he secretly, deep down, was also kind of scared that they’d all split up if they didn’t date well. He didn’t want to split up ever. They were… they were his group, his gang, his… they were the people he grew up with and thought he would grow with forever. They were the people that he couldn’t help but think of fondly. They knew him; he knew them. They loved each other and cared for each other and accounted for each other. They all were so dedicated. It was as though the world was theirs… it nearly was just theirs. He didn’t want any of that to end. He didn’t even know who he’d be if it ended.

Brian pulled him a bit closer, rubbing his back and pulling him out of his thoughts for a moment. “You look upset… I’m sorry,” He said softly, unsure what he could do, but wanting to do something.

“It’s not your fault,” Wensleydale said softly, his heart clenched. He wanted just a little bit more of him… Just enough to replay in his mind and torment his sexuality more aggressively. “I’m glad you’re here, honest,” He said finally.

Brian’s cheeks warmed at that. “Oh… okay,” he said shyly, his mind swimming at the implications. “Is there anything I can do?” He asked softly. “Anything else?”

“Just stay with me, always,” Wensleydale replied. That’s all he wanted in the end anyway. To stay together.

Brian grew a bit redder, and he nodded, defeated. He wanted to stay with him forever anyway… although now he grew a bit disappointed as he fantasized about a marriage of the Them that was still up in the air.


	33. Aziraphale/Crowley: Worried

_ "I was so worried about you,” _ Aziraphale breathed, pulling his Crowley close in a hug as he inspected him.

_ "I wasn't gone that long.."  _ Crowley murmured. “If anything I should be worried when you go to Hell.”

“I thought Hell got you,” Aziraphale said, gently kissing at his cheeks. “I love you. I was so worried,” He breathed, gently petting his face.

Crowley’s cheeks warmed at that. “I’m okay,” He said, embarrassed.

“Yes… you’re okay,” Aziraphale repeated, trying not to think that it could only be temporary.

 


	34. Adam/Wenselydale (Implied Polyamorous The Them): Comfort

_ "Hey, Adam left his stuff here.. I should probably give it back.." _ Wensleydale said softly, looking at the hoodie. They really weren’t together. He had no right to touch it, especially since Adam and the rest of the Them wanted him to be together in a polycule of romance. But it looked comforting, it really did, and he desperately wanted to. Wensleydale sighed. He probably wouldn’t be upset with him… he wouldn’t hurt it… That was enough reasoning to tempt him to grab it. He gently pulled it against him, hugging him and nuzzling it slightly. 

It was comforting. He found himself drawn to the scent, enjoying the masculinity in it, even. He sighed softly, burying his face in the soft, well-worn fabric, and lost track of time. Breathing in the scent soothed some anxieties, and his mind fogged up until he surrendered to a nap.

Adam knocked at the door, his mom forcing him to come back for the sweater since it was autumn. Wensleydale’s mom had let him in and said her son was in his room still, but he figured he’d knock anyway. He didn’t get a response, though, so he opened the door slowly, finding Wensleydale laid on the floor using his hoodie as a pillow. He looked serene and comfortable, despite the position. Adam slowly moved over, crouching by him. He gently tucked a piece of hair behind his ear. “Wensleydale,” His voice was soft but loud enough to wake someone.

The smaller groaned, trying to hide in the hoodie, and Adam chuckled.

“Wake up,” Adam urged again, and Wensleydale’s eyes shot open by the supernatural. 

Wensleydale blinked grumpily, a pout on his lips as he pawed at his eyes, grabbing his glasses. He paused as he saw Adam, his mind trying to put everything together, and so he slowly sat up, causing him to look at his pillow. “Your hoodie,” He said softly, his cheeks starting to warm. “Sorry.”

“For what?” Adam said, grabbing it. He looked at Wensleydale, gently petting his head once. 

“Sleeping on it?” He said guiltily.

“It looks like it brought you comfort. I don’t mind. I’ll bring you another or something if you liked it,” Adam said, trying not to show the twinkle of hope he held now.

He looked sheepish. “I don’t want to trouble you.”

“If it comforts you, it’s more than worth it.” He gave a little smile. “Besides, now it smells a bit more like you. Probably that’s a good thing,” He chuckled.

Wensleydale ducked his head, his cheeks warm by now. “If you want to do that… you don’t have to.”

“I know. But if you like it, I will,” Adam said, utterly assured in himself. His mum called from the door downstairs. Adam sighed, getting up. “Well, it was nice seeing you…” Especially in such a cute way. “I’ll get you a hoodie or something tomorrow. Take care, Wensleydale.”

“You too,” Wensleydale urged, and Adam left with a smile. Things would look up, he just knew it.


	35. Aziraphale/Crowley: Mr. Jones and Me Songfic

 

Crowley stared at the bar’s ledge, taking a deep breath before he decided to inhale some more gin and tonic. He belched, shoving out the shot glass. “More,” he demanded.

The bartender frowned. “You’ve had practically a liter of alcoho-” 

Crowley waved a hand dismissively, miracling away a memory so he could sip to some simpler, semi-sad thoughts. It was better than anguish anyway.

The bartender got him his alcohol without protestation, the concern being removed along with a part of him.

Crowley took it, starting to suck it down in hopes that the fast he drank it the faster his thoughts dissipated. It was just so frustrating. He loved beauty, and the only other person he found beautiful was Aziraphale. He couldn’t have Aziraphale. 

He wondered if the solution was filling himself with fake affection of devoted fans thinking of him as the idea in their heads. He might be less lonely, even if they would never actually be talking to the authentic him. There was beauty in that, wasn’t there?

And surely there was beauty in emptying the contents of his stomach in a rusted camper home painted to be a tour bus, right?

He sighed, staring at the glass. He was so tired. In part of his own bullshit, but that didn’t matter. He knew he’d miss Az anyway. It was just… if everyone loved him, surely Az would grow to love him more too, right?

He pushed it out. “More,” he nearly slurred. The barkeep started that task obediently, finding himself compelled to. It was almost thoughtless as he passed his customer a bit more poison.

Crowley sipped it, forcing bile down the whole time. It wasn’t working. In the end, he still only thought about him.

Aziraphale burst into the bar, utterly relieved and terrified at the same time. “Crowley! Goodness, I didn’t know where you were!” He went to him, starting to inspect him. “You’re drunk!” He scolded, cupping his face.

Crowley burped.”So whaat?” He slurred lazily.

“So let’s go home, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, and he would be disappointed if he wasn’t so hurt and worried. He picked his best friend up, nuzzling him just slightly. “Don’t scare me like that.”

“Ssswas only a week,” Crowley murmured.

“And a week without you feels much longer, my dearest boy,” Aziraphale said softly. “I was so worried.” He hugged him.

“I missed you,” Crowley sniffled.

“Well don’t leave me then, my dear,” He said softly, nuzzling him back as he held him protectively. 

Crowley teared up, nodding. “Okay,” He sniffled again. “I’m sorry… I missed you.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay, dear boy,” Aziraphale kissed his cheek softly. “It’s all okay. You’re here now. Safe and sound… and with me. Let’s go to my flat… I’ll get you some food and read to you until you fall asleep.”

Crowley nodded weakly, squeezing him gently. It was the closest he could say to I love you.


	36. Reverse!Asmodeus/Reverse!Uriel: Flower Meanings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reverse Au is by @onlytrashdrawshere on Instagram  
> Amoriel is Asmodeus and he's the patron saint of lovers  
> Uri is Uriel and he's Archdemon for Sloth/Gluttony

Uri looked at his bouquet of yellow carnations. They were a bright color and would look pretty next to Amoriel’s hair. He was… He was excited. Amoriel always seemed to get excited about the little things that he did, and so surely a gift would seal in the deal. He approached their usual table. Amoriel was already sitting there, he was on time, and therefore early for Uri. He sat down with him, offering his gift.

Amoriel looked at the flowers and looked at Uri. “Did I do something wrong?” He asked, fear rising in his gut as all he could think of was that the message of rejection and disdain was Uri’s passive-aggressive way of breaking up.

Uri furrowed his brow. “Something wrong? What would you have done wrong?” He asked, confused as all Hell.

“Are you breaking up with me?” Amoriel asked instead, his panic rising.

“What? No- no, I- I got you a gift? What? What’s even going on, what’s wrong?”

“Yellow carnations mean: rejection, disdain, or it’s a message of personal disappointment,” Amoriel recited perfectly, his eyes boring a hole into Uri’s.

“I… I thought they were pretty though? And I heard somewhere yellow means like friendship and affection and I thought too that it would look nice with your hair... “

Amoriel shook his head. “Yellow carnations mean those other things,” He explained.  
“Well, I didn’t mean that, obviously. I just saw them on the way and thought I’d pick them up.”

Amoriel sighed. “Oh, you didn’t know, it’s okay, but I can’t accept those. It’ll doom the relationship,” he said seriously, albeit sadly. “But thank you for the thought.”

Uri frowned, a bit disappointed still. He also didn’t get what that meant about doom the relationship. “Okay... “ They erupted in a cloud of flame and smoke before disappearing. He paused for a moment, miracling up some yellow roses. “Would you accept these?”

Amoriel paused, before smiling slightly. “Yes… although, I do hope that they don’t stay a friendship’s yellow forever,” He said softly, taking them happily.

“Me neither,” Uri almost whispered, feeling much better that he accepted some gift happily after the trouble. Amoriel could be so strange sometimes… but… even if he was strange, he tried. He tried very hard. And he was sweet and cute. He was worth a little extra effort, and perhaps an extra two miracles.


	37. Reverse!Aziraphael/Reverse!Crowley: Poorly Timed Confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reverse!AU Courtesy of @onlytrashdrawshere on Instagram  
> Anthos is Crowley, Azirael is Aziraphael

Anthos looked at his to-be-groom, and everything about it was disappointing. He felt horrible and sick to his stomach, especially because instead of loving the angel he ought to, he pined after a demon. And yet he still walked down the aisle, his knees quaking. He hated that Azirael was watching him be betrothed to the angel. He hated that he had to sneak his would-be lover into his wedding under a false guise. He stepped up to the podium, letting his groom take his hands. And for a while, the world was robotic and distant. He spoke at his prompts, but everything faded past him.

Finally, the priest caught his attention. “And if there are any objections to this union, speak now, or forever hold your peace,” he said.

Anthos glanced over the crowd lazily, almost blaming them for letting this happen to him, but in doing so he saw Azirael stand to face the challenge.

“I object!” He said, his voice booming with more conviction than a demon ever should have. “I love Anthos. I can’t stand by and let him get married to the wrong man. Anthos, I love you. I want to be with you. Please don’t do this.”

Anthos looked at Azirael. It was both everything he wanted and everything he dreaded and feared. “I- I can’t just run off,” He said softly.

“You can, please,Anthos, you know that… I’ll protect you. I promise. I just… I can’t… I need you with me. I need you most.”

“Anthos,” His groom said, shocked.

Anthos cringed, but looked at him and looked to Azarael. He had to. He just… everything in him had to. He looked to his groom. “I’m sorry, but it wouldn’t be right for me to marry the wrong man and waste your time… I’m already in love. I’m sorry,” He said, looking at Azarael. He looked to everyone else, ran for Azarael, grabbed him, and fled the scene. As soon as they were outside Azarael grabbed him and seized him in his strong arms, letting his wings flap to deliver them to somewhere they could be together.

It never would have worked out anyway.


	38. Michael/Lucifer: Mad as Rabbits (Panic! at the Disco) Songfic

Years and years passed with Lucifer working through alone. Now that he had fallen there wasn’t much purpose in taking breaks. He wouldn’t be spending them with Michael anyway. And in those revolving, repetitive days, his mind began to bastardize his social skills. He slowly began to lose touch with describing his feelings, which lead to losing touch with them at all. He let himself become this robot, praying to at least sate his ambition, if not his nonworking life. Perhaps that was mad in itself, though.

Michael always listened to Metatron’s reports, wanting to hear as much as he could about the limited exposure the other had to Lucifer, and knowing that he could never go to court and meet with him. It would destroy them both. But Michael had grown obsessed with avoiding the personal as well. He kept nonprofessional contact minimal and contained to only a few angels, and he barred others from talking in his office if it was non-professional as well. After all, he didn’t want to hear about their relationships anyway.

But these bushels of bad habits arose the second they sat down at their date table. Neither knew how to express themselves, and all they could do is throw out guesses of words and hope something stick as they realized how uncomfortably far they’d grown from themselves in a hope to protect their hearts. It was mad and it was disheartening, but… their love was still worth it, and at least they both knew they’d gone and sucked down the same mistakes. Maybe they might even grow together… Either way, even though they had difficulty expressing it, they were grateful each other was there, and they each loved each other, so they had all the time in the world to figure out where to go from there.


	39. Aziraphael/Crowley: Could have told about the cold

_ "You could've told me that sooner!" _ Aziraphale said to Raphael, freaking out as he held Crowley’s snake form against his chest in an attempt to warm him.

“I’m not a vet, and I didn’t think about it. He should wake up soon though if he’s warm, so just keep him near, alright?” Raphael said, pleased to have this excuse to watch them be close. “And also he may stay as a snake for a while as he adjusts.”

“Will he really be okay?” Az asked, gently petting his Crowley’s head. A small pink tongue darted out for a moment in sheer bliss.

“He will just warm him up with you and it’ll be okay. Now I have business to attend to. Take care of each other,” Raph said, ascending to heaven.

Aziraphale sighed, gently petting him and cuddling his snake close, whispering worries as he awaited his waking.

 


	40. Aziraphael/Crowley: Swapped and the deal was worth it

_ "And then I fell. Then I found I didn't ever want to get back up,” _ Aziraphale murmured softly. “I don’t think I ever will regret that trade. Crowley was a hidden angel who deserved to be redeemed. I was a hidden bastard of an angel. And he really is beautiful with his halo and his mottled gray wings…” He breathed. “Mind you I do miss his cute little tail~” His face contorted to a devious look. “Not to mention, I always had lived so holier-than-thou. Crowley isn’t like that. It’s… it’s truly good… and it’s refreshing.” Aziraphale’s voice was filled with love. His own wings had grown to be a dark gray, not quite the full black of a true demon’s, but Crowley still admired them, so he was happy. He looked over to Raphael with a dopey smile. “He really did deserve to be up there. He deserved my spot. I’m so grateful he’s in heaven.”

Raphael looked at his old friend, shaking his head with a slight smile. “Aziraphale, only you and Crowley could love each other enough to swap like this. Only you two would see the middle grounds and want each other to be most comfortable. And as sweet as it is, I truly believe you two are in your own little neutral zone. You’ve both risen and fallen and you haven’t committed,” he breathed. “You’re on each others’ sides.”

“Yes… Crowley speaks of that sometimes…” It had increased since Aziraphale had swapped with him. He seemed so chipper and filled to the brim with overwhelming love, and Aziraphale couldn’t help but smile as he chattered away leaned against his arm. It was… it was their sort of perfect. The perfect that didn’t adhere to any preconceived notions of good or bad. The perfect that just did what was right. He loved that man so much for making him realize that. “Too bad that doesn’t exist.”

“Yes… too bad,” Said Raphael thoughtfully, hatching a plan. One last falling, and one last rising, and a neutral ground to be each others’. That was what fit them best.

 


	41. Michael/Lucifer: Something Sweet

_ "Tell me something sweet, I.. need to hear it. Er. Please," _ Lucifer broke finally. It had been so long since he’d heard Michael’s voice… so long since he’d seen Michael’s face. It had been so long that he felt guilty and bad and he was just beginning to understand now that Michael didn’t think he was any of those things- that his tears were just a message and nothing more. His emotions just bled in.

Michael looked at the demon in front of him, and he would have been shocked to hear it if he wasn’t the head of Hell, because whenever he looked at Lucifer all he could think were sweet things (even if they had a bit of bitterness in them as well). He gently put a hand over his long lost love’s, looking him in the eye with a softness that Lucifer had forgotten existed in the world. “Lucifer, you are quite possibly the sweetest demon there ever was. You fell in hopes to help me out as best as you could. I know you might think you’re too ambitious, and even though I hate that I’ve missed you, I personally love your ambition and zest for life. And every time that I see you my heart swells and I can’t help but feel your beauty is an entrancing, entangling force that wants me to dip lower down. I’ve missed you so much. You’re my best friend. You’ve always been, and you’re the only one that could ever make me want to fall. I admire you, and I know you did what you thought was right. I don’t blame you, but if it’s what you need to hear you’re more than forgiven… I just want to see you again. I just don’t want you to avoid me,” Michael spoke, and his voice was tense with urgency and genuine feeling and love.

Lucifer gazed in those beautiful eyes. He could almost see a rainbow within, and he bit back tears. He was so beautiful, and Lucifer had just grown dingy with the fall, and yet… when Michael looked at him he knew that he meant it all- that he really did see Lucifer as gorgeous and good and… his best friend. He saw him as someone who had passion. He saw him… He almost dared to think that he saw him as a home. “I love you,” Lucifer said softly, trying to take in all of the feelings inside him that hadn’t stirred up so passionately for millennia. “I missed you too, and if you do want to see me, and you don’t hate me… I want to be around you. I have for a long time. I do a lot, actually,” He said the last bit softer, looking down.

Michael gently grabbed his chin, gently asserting Lucifer so that he looked in his eyes once more. He had missed out on seeing his eyes up close for millennia, and though they weren’t as colorful as before, they were beautiful and a window to his heart. He wanted to see them. “I want to be around you too,” He said softly. “I could never hate you, Lucifer… I have wanted to be with you for a very long time, and I’ve wanted you around even longer.” He gently leaned over, kissing his forehead. “And I know that you still probably have feelings inside you that don’t betray my own true feelings, but… I’d like for us to spend some time, and maybe with time, you’ll feel better about it all. Hell, maybe we’ll both feel better about it all,” He said softly, letting himself swear only for Lucifer. “But now that it’s all over, I want to be with you,” He repeated louder, meeting his eyes steadily.

Lucifer tried to blink back emotional tears. Now he was the one crying. He wiped at his eyes, nodding slowly. “I want to be with you,” he echoed back before everything in his body sprung with instincts and he found himself hugging Michael and holding onto him.

The angel gently pet his back, kissing his head with a sigh. “I love you too,” He whispered in his ear, letting his wings out to wrap around him with protection that only Michael could ensure.

And for once in millennia, Lucifer felt safe enough to let a wall or two down.


	42. Hastur/Ligur: Okay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was based off of a universe where Adam brought back Hastur after Ligur proved himself- @onlytrashdrawshere read it- if I remember I will do my best to link that fic in these notes.

“I’m okay,” Ligur did his best to assure, gently cupping Hastur’s face with both of his hands and meeting his eyes. 

Hastur took shaky breaths, his hands feeling up and down Ligur just to be sure that everything was in place. Adam had brought him back as he was when he first descended into hell, but Hastur would feed him to a happy plumpness soon enough. A lot of Adam’s deal had to do with Hastur being a better boyfriend to him, and of convincing Ligur to let down more of his walls and feel a bit safer in general.

Adam was hoping that they would be healthier and happier and freer. Right now was a sex and love revolution as angels and demons were being shoved into romances left and right at the will of a now 14-year-old boy.

It was terrifying and freeing and Hastur wanted to do it better, he realized.

Hastur pulled Ligur into a tight hug, kissing his forehead as he held him close. “I’ve missed you so much,” He whispered, moving to kiss him.

Ligur let him, a bit confused. “Why?” He asked. Everything was a bit hazy, and honestly, his memories were too foggy, especially around his death, to understand what was happening.

“I missed out on a few years,” He said, his voice cracking. “The great war didn’t happen. And you’re here now, and I love you, and we’re free now,” He whispered into his ear, before kissing at the side of his face.

Ligur blushed a bit at the pervasive affection. “I… I have a lot of questions,” He said finally. “But… I trust you… I’m here now,” He said softly, trying to console him.

“Yes… You’re here with me now. And you’re safe, and sound, and let’s go have dinner. We have a lot to talk about,” He said, lifting Ligur into his arms easily and carrying him.

Ligur grabbed on tight, his cheeks heating up even more. “Ah- Hastur, what are you doing? Someone will see us!” He said, anxiety tightening his voice so it became tinny.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. Not after the war. Hell, even demons and angels are kissing now. So… Just let me hold you. I’ll bring you home and I’ll cook your favorite meal. Hopefully, my cooking hasn’t gotten worse,” He muttered the last bit softer.

Ligur opened his mouth for a moment to comment, but he let it go. He’d ask at dinner. His body was still tense as he was carried, and he was still scared, but it seemed that Hastur knew this new world better than he did. Maybe he would grow used to it with some time to adjust… hopefully, he did. He really did enjoy whenever they could be soft together.


	43. Hastur/Ligur: More than you think

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off a fic where Adam brings back Ligur after Hastur proved himself- @onlytrashdrawshere read it so I'll update with a link to the fic if I remember

  _"You're so much more than you think you are,"_ Ligur said softly, meeting Hastur’s eyes. It was right after he had been brought back. “You’ve done so much to help me.” He hugged him gently, kissing him.

Hastur kissed back, tears flooding his eyes as he heard his love proud of him. It was something he needed after the searing lost scorching and burning his heart as the holy water dissolved his love in flames years before.

 


	44. Michael/Lucifer: Rainbow Poem

Their love was a rainbow

Requiring too much pain for everlasting beauty

Dewy affection clinging and fading

With the hot sun of anger and intensity

A clashing, choking heat

To make it hide away for times

It can thrive and shine again


	45. Hastur/Ligur: Out of sight

“Ligur, please come out, you stupid little chameleon,” Hastur’s voice ached with a fear that being a denizen of Hell made regular. But it still was fear. He searched high and low and cooed to try and convince his chameleon (not that it ever worked). It wasn’t even winter! Well, maybe it was, it was about mid-fall, and Ligur was small, maybe he was particularly taken and frozen by the winter this year.

“Are you looking for Ligur?” Dagon walked into the laundry room with Hastur, infinite amusement on her face.

“Mmhm, can’t find him anywhere.”

She laughed at that. “Oh that’s  _ rich, _ ” she said, laughing harder. “You know he got holy-watered by Crowley this summer, right?” 

Hastur’s face twitched. Her laughter roared.

“Guess you get a bit of winter brain yourself, huh?” She grinned.

Hastur wished she wasn’t too important to kill. “Don’t talk about it, and I won’t make you suffer,” He threatened, but his heart was out of it. It was horrible. Demons didn’t- _ weren’t supposed to _ mourn. He wasn’t  _ supposed _ to feel this way.

Ligur would have been hiding on the back of the perpetually overheated dryer. But instead he watched, his body without substance and his actions and words powerless.


	46. Hastur/Ligur: Soft Poem

Their love is scared to be soft,

Yet naturally is

So they harden it with bruises and bite marks

And hide and fight

For flimsy safety they don’t deserve but desperately need

They can’t live with others knowing

How softly they gaze into each others’ eyes

Or how gently they kiss

Of how sweetly they hold each other

Or care for each other

Such things are not allowed here

Their love is a forbidden love

Only because love is forbidden here

And forbidden is hidden in fear

They can’t cast away or discard

Their yearning, rebellious hearts

Only wanting to hold each other dear


	47. Aziraphale/Crowley: The Perfect Start

“Six thousand years,” Aziraphale breathed, looking at the demon that was  _ finally _ his. “Six thousand years I’ve waited to say I love you.”

“Six thousand years  _ I’ve _ waited to  _ show _ I love you,” Crowley winked, a slight smile tugging at his now-chapped lips.

“Oh, hush, you serpent,” Aziraphale chuckled, meeting gorgeous and golden serpentine eyes. They honestly put all of heaven’s halos to shame with their brilliance.

“I’m  _ your _ serpent now, angel,” Crowley shot back, a slight, utterly smug smirk on his lips.

“Well I’m  _ your _ angel now,” Aziraphale countered, entirely used to the silly playfulness of their banter at times. It felt like home. 

“Yeah… you are, huh?” Crowley studied the face pressed against the pillow beside him. Pleased with the features of it and the realization, he leaned over and kissed his slightly sweaty forehead.

Aziraphale closed his eyes for a moment. Home…. This… this was home now, and he knew it deep down with every fiber of his being. He loved it so much. His eyes gently opened after the kiss, and he moved to gently capture Crowley’s lips, utterly entranced by the sheer amount of happiness just letting lips lock gave him.

Crowley let him, settling in and kissing him languidly. He could relax now. He knew that. Aziraphale always ensured he felt he could let his walls down. He… he was…  _ Crowley _ here, after all. Not just a demon. And besides, he knew that Aziraphale would always protect him. He was always protective of him. Even back then.

The sentiment sent tears surging up to his eyes, and a warm, plump, soft thumb wiped at them whilst they kissed before Aziraphale pulled away. “Are you alright, my dear boy?” He asked softly.

Crowley met those beautiful blue eyes. “I am with you,” He blurted, his lips pursed as he let Aziraphale tend to his tears.

“Yes… you are, dear boy. I promise you, you’ll always be alright with me. I could never stand to lose you anyway.”

“I couldn’t either, Aziraphale, you- we’ve built such a perfect life together that I know my ability to smile and laugh and find joy would die with you. I don’t ever want to be without you. You’re my home. You’re what lets my sun shine and my world go round. Hell is just a job now… a job so I can stay with you.”

“My dear boy, if the Great War ever does happen, know that I would only be focused on your safety. Heaven has enough soldiers to protect it. You, my dear boy, are a treasure piteously unguarded. You’re my greatest treasure- the thing I love most in this world- my favorite, my happiness.” He gently moved, seizing Crowley’s lips in a loving smooch.

It was a perfect, perfect way to start their relationship because it was perfect for them.


	48. Hastur/Ligur: "I'm sorry I didn't tell you that sooner."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @Onlytrashdrawshere on Instagram read a fic about Adam bringing Ligur back at Hastur's request. This is minorly based on that.

_ " _ I love you, and  _ I'm sorry I didn't tell you  _ that  _ sooner,”  _ Hastur breathed, his hands gently cupping Ligur’s face as he stared into those eyes that he had missed so harshly. 

Ligur gently wrapped his hands around Hastur’s, holding his gaze evenly. “That would have been too soft. We both know that.”

“They didn’t need to know.”

“We would know though, Hastur, and it would make everything harder,” Ligur said.

“I’m tired of hiding my love, Ligur. I’m tired of it. All of this time without you reminded me of how important you are. Shit, you’re just important to my everyday life. Waking up without you hurts. I love you. I want to be with you. I don’t want to wake up without you again,” He softened at the end. 

Ligur gently hugged him. “I’m here now,” He whispered, nuzzling at his neck and kissing his cheek. “Right now we’re doing it right… right in our own wrong way. Isn’t that enough?”

“I want now to last forever, then,” Hastur murmured, kissing his forehead.

“Yeah… well, maybe in a tomorrow we’ll go further, though,” Ligur said, his voice holding a hint of flirtation.

Hastur furrowed his brow. “How?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Ligur said shyly. It was too soon for wedding bands. “But I’ll let you know when it comes.”

“So long as it’s all okay with you,” Hastur murmured, settling against his hair and relaxing once more.

 


	49. Hastur/Ligur: "I'm something, Do me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @onlytrashdrawshere read a fic or saw a headcanon with Ligur being a very picky eater so it's partially inspired on that.

_ "I'm bored. I wanna do something,"  _ Ligur grumbled, shoving away some papers Dagon slipped in his bag cheekily. Bitch. Everyone was a paperwork bitch, though.

_ "I'm something. Do me,”  _ Hastur blurted, a sheepish, honest, and mischievous grin on his face.

“Oh, of course, you would say that,” Ligur scoffed, getting up. “What have you been doing while I’ve been doing all Hell’s work, asshole?” He asked, going and straddling Hastur’s thin, bony hips. He didn’t mind too much (although he could be a little plumper- just for comfort’s sake), Ligur had plenty of cushioning anyway.

Hastur grinned, immediately grabbing those soft hips. He loved holding him and feeding him and he loved him (not that he’d ever let anyone (else?) know. That would be dangerous for them both.). “Watching you work, killing those who make noise or bug you, thinking what to cook you,” he shot him a cheeky wink, knowing that his cooking was an asset that would probably be the most valued right now. Ligur only ate prepackaged foods, foods from certain restaurants, or some of Hastur’s food (he was slowly mastering it all). Hastur figured if prepackaged foods made Ligur feel like shit, they were encroaching on his territory. That was his job. Although, nowadays he secretly loved making him feel like a god.

“Fattening me up again?” Ligur teased, chuckling as he watched him with keen, piercing eyes. The chameleon resting on his head began to turn a bit yellow.

A smile twitched at Hastur’s lips. “What can I say? You make gluttony look gorgeous.” He leaned in, kissing him seriously for a moment before gently nipping at his lips.

Ligur gasped, shoving him away with a grin before he laughed, biting down on Hastur’s neck for revenge. “You fucker,” He growled against the skin.

Hastur bit his lip, overwhelmed with lust at the combination of everything Ligur was doing to him. “Fuck you too,” He muttered, growling as he started to work his shirt off. “I’m gonna fuck you, too,” He corrected, feeling smug.

Ligur scoffed, the growl sending blood right where it needed to be to convince him to indulge in Hastur. “Not if I fuck you first,” he said, smirking as he nibbled down his neck, his hands clumsily unbuttoning his shirt.

Hastur was something amusing (and quite satisfying) to do after all.


	50. Aziraphale/Crowley: "I'm something. Do me."

_ "I'm bored. I wanna do something,"  _ Aziraphale sighed, putting aside the book as he looked to Crowley with puppy dog eyes.

_ "I'm something. Do me,"  _ Crowley suggested as though he were an innocent, pure, and helpful creature. He gave Aziraphale a wink and a cute little winning smile.

Aziraphale’s cheeks warmed at that. “You really are forward sometimes, my dear boy,” He said, slowly moving to scoop Crowley into his arms.

Crowley obliged, moving so he could wrap his legs around his back as Aziraphale picked him up, knowing it was all only to be dropped off in the bedroom. “And yet it works,” He smirked, moving to kiss him.

Aziraphale chuckled, rolling his eyes before indulging himself in a kiss. He knew this house anyway. Miraculously, the bookshelf closed as Aziraphale laid his love on the bed and Crowley’s legs opened.


	51. Michael/Lucifer: "I'm something. Do me."

_ "I'm bored. I wanna do something," _ Michael said, sighing. A cruise for a vacation after the apocalypse, and there was no work. Not to mention, they were kind of trapped to only the options on the cruise. He should’ve looked into it more, he just never expected to have this opportunity.

_ "I'm something. Do me,” _ Lucifer lazily suggested, a finger tracing a design on the comforter laying over the miraculously plush bed. Lucifer knew Michael had to have done it, not that the other mentioned or admitted to it. He did like to spoil him.

Michael sputtered for a moment at the proposition. “Do you?” He asked, his cheeks flushing. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t occasionally thought of it… or done anything to fix the problem those sinful thoughts brought, but… was it too soon? He knew it was six thousand years, but they hadn’t seen each other for most of it. Michael had only been able to cry to him.

“You heard what I said. You’re bored, I’m bored, this bed is awfully soft, and we have six-thousand years of romantic and sexual tension that’s not gonna work itself off. I’ll teach you. May as well on our vacation anyway.”

Michael’s cheeks grew hot at how utterly frank it all was. “Uh- well, I- yes, but- it is, it is soon, a bit, right?” He stammered, hating losing his composure. Only Lucifer could make him forget himself, though.

“Too soon just depends on the people doing it. It’s been six-thousand years. Haven’t you wanted to do this?” Lucifer asked, a hand traveling to rest on Michael’s thigh.

Michael paused, doing his best to collect himself. “More than an angel ought to… You’re right. We have been doing a lot of… more romantic things… a few… urm… sexual ones make sense,” he said, his voice a bit soft at the end.

“It’s okay, Michael. I’ll teach you,” Lucifer said, gently tugging him to sit down beside him. He began with kissing, and he let it devolve from there at Michael’s pace as he showed him how to make them both feel amazing.


	52. Hastur/Ligur: Confession Poem

_ Dancing in the moonlight, hiding from the eyes of the day _

Hidden was how you always loved to stay

I’m happy to oblige if you’ll allow me another spin

Any opportunity to hold you is the best sort of win

You’ve always stayed on my mind

Consuming fickle thoughts with feelings of being entwined

I know I could never find a better lover

Nor a better man

And though neither of us are good demons

We’re much rather good at our jobs

I want you to know that for you I would tear apart everything

You know how to make me appreciate the sun rises

And the seconds I can hold you

You romanticize my life

Just by being you

And I know this is romantic and sappy, I’m sorry

But Ligur, my world wouldn’t be the same if you were gone

And I hope that you can keep my secret

I hope you care enough to

But I love you.


	53. Death/Pestilence: A second chance

_ "Death doesn't have a heart,”  _ Pestilence said, picking at one of his many oozing scabs. He opened his mouth, but Famine’s outrage beat him to it.

_ "That's because you tore it to shreds!" _ The latter said, utterly exasperated. “He cares about you, so much. How could you just leave him hanging?”

“I didn’t know what to do! Okay, Famine? Death and I are close, but he’s kinda like all of our bosses. It’s a lot of pressure! I panicked!” He threw the handkerchief he’d been dabbing the scabs at out into the world in anger, hoping that someone would get infected. He’d been trying to spread things by lazy means like that recently. He figured it was a new adaptation to help himself go further.

Famine ran his hands down his face. “Ohhh my god, but he’s not. And you both like each other anyway. He may be a bit clunky but come on Pestilence. Give it a chance. Give  _ him _ a chance. You said you would, and he’s crushed right now.” The last bit was very much true, and very much a motivator for both he and War to get involved. They figure if Pestilence calms him down it’ll be okay.

“Well now I screwed it up,” Pestilence said, his mind despairing it all right now.

“No- no, you didn’t. You didn’t at all… just… say you were nervous! Go on one now? It can be salvaged, he’s patient, he’ll understand.” If Death had anything, it was patience in spades.

Pestilence curled his scarred lip, the chapped, dry sections bleeding black. “He won’t forgive me.”

“He will… I’ll go with you. He’s invested in you. He’d rather you get nervous and mess one date up than forfeit the whole thing, right? Let’s just go,” Famine got up. He didn’t touch Pestilence, not out of fear of disease, but out of fear of wrath. He just was a step above War and him, and he knew that.

Pestilence grumbled, feeling like a coward as he got up and was lead to Death’s quarters. He knocked on the deep oaken door.

Death couldn’t cry. He wanted to. He looked at the door, knowing it was safe, and knowing there were only three options of who it was. It sounded like Pestilence, though… and maybe Famine.

PESTILENCE, he began. YOU MAY COME IN.

Pestilence gulped, opening the door. Famine left as soon as it was the slightest bit ajar, ditching him out of cowardice. It wasn’t as though he could help anyway, and Pestilence knew that. He stepped in, closing it behind him. “You must be upset.”

YOU DID NOT COME. WE HAD ARRANGED IT.

“I got cold feet.”

YOUR BODY IS ALWAYS TOO HOT OR TOO COLD.

“No… I mean, I got nervous. I started doubting the whole thing.”

DID YOU NOT LIKE ME?

“No… I do like you, but… the whole dynamic. I mean, I just don’t know.”

I AM PATIENT.

“Yes… you are. I got scared. I’m sorry. I just… sometimes you feel like my boss.”

WE ARE ALL EQUALS.

“Yes… but we’re not. Everyone else feels it too.”

I SEE. I WILL TRY TO STOP THAT.

“Are you sure you even want this mushy romantic stuff?”

YES, IF IT’S WITH YOU. I KNOW THAT I FEEL STRANGE AND I KNOW THAT YOU ARE THE WONDERFUL CAUSE. YOU’VE INFECTED EVEN DEATH HIMSELF TO ODDITIES OF THE BODY AND MIND.

“That was pretty poetic,” Pestilence blurted, shocked by it.

THANK YOU. BUT IT IS TRUE. YOU HAVE MADE ME A DIFFERENT PERSON. AND I WANT MORE.

“I just stood you up, though.”

TO HAVE YOU I MUST GET OVER THAT. YOU SAID YOU WERE SCARED. I WANT YOU. LET’S MEET TOMORROW AT 2. I WANT TO BE CLOSER TO YOU.

Pestilence froze for a minute, a bit overwhelmed and unsure, before he nodded. “As you wish.”

IS THAT NOT WHAT YOU WISH? WE CAN CHANGE THE TIME. I’M SORRY. I DIDN’T ASK. WHAT DID YOU WISH?

Pestilence’s eyes got big for a moment before he shook his head. “It-it’s fine. Thank you,” he said. Maybe it would be okay, or better than he thought.

 


	54. Aziraphale/Crowley: A new jacket

_ "I got you something. I saw you looking at it in the shop," _ Aziraphale said, coyly passing over the leather jacket that he knew would make Crowley believe he was just a bit tougher. He didn’t understand why his dear boy wanted to feel that way when he was perfectly happy to step in and help Crowley, but perhaps he just didn’t want to feel powerless.

Crowley looked at it, surprised. “Oh you didn’t have to do that,” He said, utterly surprised.

“No, I didn’t, but I wanted to make you happy. For everything you’ve done for me.”

“Oh, angel, it’s not like you haven’t done anything for me anyway.”

“Yes… well, I thought you would look handsome in it anyway,” Aziraphale said, knowing that would cut the conversation. He miracled off the tag lazily. “Now try it on.”

Crowley gave a little grin. “Okay then… thank you,” He muttered the last bit, trying to keep it under wraps as he put it on. It fit like a glove, and Aziraphale figured they both were right in their assumptions about it on him. 

It was well worth it, especially as Crowley inspected it with a smile, finding himself looking fashionable and dangerous.


	55. Hastur/Ligur: Castle on the Hill Songfic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, vaguely based on that Hastur/Ligur fic and then, of course, the Over the Castle on the Hill song :)

Hastur looked out at the horizon as he drove, the radio playing something of Ligur’s pick. He wasn’t really focusing on it. He was instead engrossed in thought. Three years ago he had ascended from Hell for one reason, and it was that he couldn’t live without Ligur by his side. Three years had passed, living on the surface as though he were going native, driving cars, using technology- and… he missed Hell. He didn’t take to being native like Crowley did. He didn’t love the Earth like Adam or Aziraphale. But he loved Ligur. Too much to pass up. So he learned and did everything, even taking a rudimentary course of Adam’s about relationships. 

Hastur didn’t correct Adam on everything he was wrong about, nor everything he didn’t understand. He didn’t say how he couldn’t love Ligur in the open for fear they’d both be killed for loving. In honesty, taking Adam’s course made him regret a lot of things. He wished that he had treated Ligur better, even before the non-Apocalypse. He wished he’d just gotten over his fear and been the person that Ligur needed. Looking back at it, looking at it with fresh, innocent eyes that didn’t understand the shortcomings of Hell, his mind and heart filled with a mean-spirited optimism that cooed he could have been much better. He  _ should _ have been much better.

Ligur groaned, cracking his neck in the car, and Hastur instinctively grabbed his hand. “Are you okay?”

Liigur blinked. “I’m… I’m fine,” He said, a bit shy and awkward. He pulled his hand away gently.

Hastur let him, feeling awkward. He was beginning to think that Ligur remembered… nothing. It was as though all the memories were reset, and he was starting from nearly nothing. It was a chance to do better, he figured that. But… it was hard in another way because even though he could reset and redo everything, it had been three years without Ligur, and even though he was coming back with a Ligur, it wasn’t the Ligur he had been when he left. 

Fuck, the Ligur he was… All of his memories, gone… He remembered how much tension they’d had, even starting off. He remembered one-day dragging Ligur away from his office to his room, slamming the door and pinning him against it as he desperately claimed those lips that had been so elusive. It wasn’t the right thing to do. It wasn’t good either that they tried to fuck the tension away right after, hoping to be done with it. It was forceful and brash and he should have asked instead of claiming Ligur like his rightful property. But it was their first kiss. And both of their first kisses. And it was a memory he still enjoyed. There were a lot of memories he enjoyed of himself and Ligur that he figured he’d miss. He just… Ligur was where he found he could love and he found he could love hard. Ligur was where he let his life live and revolve around. Ligur was where he found comfort and what happiness there was in Hell.

But everything was gone. Everything he knew except who Ligur was. He was… he was the same man but he was different. Maybe though, maybe this time their first kiss could be right. He could do it right and he could hold his hand and they could progress like they should. Maybe they could be soft and sweet. Hastur knew he was himself, much more than he liked, but it was comforting because Ligur was too. Ligur was sweet and short and soft and he needed this. He just didn’t know he needed a better love life. Maybe this time he could do it better. He’d never be perfect. Hastur wasn’t the type who was ever perfect anyway. He just thought Ligur was, even knowing the other’s faults.

The car lurched for a moment as he sped up, emotion surging in him. It was done. Those memories weren’t going to come back, and he missed Hell. He missed Hell and he missed Ligur, and neither were perfect (Hell, of course, being worse), but they were home. They were what Hastur found comfort in, and they were what he knew and would always know. 

Ligur’s hand found his way to Hastur’s wrist, gently squeezing it, a bit concerned with the lurching of the vehicle doing its best to chug along at top speed.

Hastur stole a glance. “It’s okay. You won’t get hurt. We’re just… I want to be home with you. I want to go home with you with me.” It had been too long since they were home together. Besides, home was where their lives would start and grow again. Their home was where Ligur would fall for him (hopefully) again, and where they’d kiss again, and eventually where they might make love instead of having sex. It would be both their first times for that.

Ligur sighed. “You don’t seem like the type who would let me,” He said, just gripping onto Hastur’s sleeve by his elbow instead. He didn’t want to disrupt the driving. He went back to looking out the window. He enjoyed looking at Hastur. He enjoyed how protective he was, but… Ligur knew that he had lost something that Hastur held dear, and he knew that he had come to save him for this. He didn’t know why he lost his memories, or how to help Hastur from feeling cheated, but he supposed he didn’t have to figure that out today. Sure, he may be a bit disappointed, but Ligur just felt that Hastur desperately needed him by his side, not to mention the sheer want either.

In time he could regain himself and rebuild his life. In time he could soothe these emotions. In time he could look out for Hastur. 

But today wasn’t that day, and that was okay. 

Ligur’s hand lost tension as he began to doze off in the sunset, tired from the resurrection and relaxed to have Hastur by him.

Hastur stole another glance. Ligur didn’t usually sleep, but he knew it was a long day for him. He only wished he slept well, even as he picked him up to carry him in when he parked.


	56. Hastur/Ligur: Retribution

_ "Who did this to you?" _ Hastur despaired, rushing over as he finally spotted his Ligur amongst the pipes. His boyfriend always transformed in the winter, the weather being too cold for his body to stop him from it. And since he always transformed in the winter, it had been the case that Hastur had gotten good at protecting him and finding him when he got scared and left. Apparently, though, he wasn’t good enough. He retrieved Ligur, inspecting where his tail should have been.

The chameleon changed color, attempting to avoid too much prodding and poking. He was small and his tail (or rather lack thereof) hurt, not to mention now he was being inspected like an experiment. He didn’t like it.

Hastur gently pet him, trying to coo to him as he cut the investigation short. He put him on his shoulder, cooking and petting him a few more times until he was convinced he wouldn’t leave. Then he began his hunt to find who dare detach his boyfriend’s tail, brainstorming punishments as he searched.

Retribution was long and painful, and unlike Ligur’s tail, what was lost would never be restored.


	57. Aziraphale/Crowley: Sick

“Crowley, you know that you don’t have to be sick right now,” Aziraphale said, in utter distress as he pet his loved one’s hair gently. “You could just miracle it away,” He tried to suggest.

“I’m over budget for miracles,” Crowley said, his eyes nearly rolling back as his sweltering forehead was treated with the cool touch of his crush. “Besides, it’s the human experience. Mmgetting the human lives now,” He mumbled, closing his eyes for a moment, trying to ignore an oncoming headache.

Aziraphale frowned as Crowley winced at his petting. “It doesn’t seem very pleasant, though,” He said softly, instead rubbing his arm.

“It’s not, but it’s what humans do,” Crowley mumbled, breaking into a couple of coughs. “Aziraphale, can you stay with me for this?” He asked softly, a bit nervous that he didn’t build up much to what the core of this all truly was about.

“Of course, Crowley. I’m not a human doctor, but I could get Raphael- ooh! I also know some things from books.”

Crowley winced at the noise. “I- I don’t need Raphael, let’s not get him involved,” He said, utterly pleased that Aziraphale was staying with him and tending to him. “Thank you for helping me,” he said softly.

“Oh Crowley, you’ve saved me too many times to count. I’m honored at any chance I can protect you in return,” Aziraphale said softly, taking his hand for a moment and squeezing it. “And besides, I can make you soup!”

Crowley gave a lazy grin at that, loving the idea of Aziraphale feeding him something he made all for Crowley. “That sounds wonderful, I’d love that,” he said. His voice was a bit hoarse, but the scratchiness couldn’t hide his happiness anyway.

“I’ll do that now then,” Aziraphale beamed. “You take care of yourself and be safe, call me if you need me, and I’ll be right back.”

“Okay, so long as you come back,” Crowley said softly.

“Of course,” Aziraphale said, already bursting with choppy flight downstairs to make Crowley the best chicken noodle soup he could make. He was so glad he could finally take care of him!

Raphael screamed into his pillow as he watched his two slow-burned boys try and fail at hinting and picking up on hints that the other would like them. But at least they were spending time and watching Aziraphale watch intently and protectively as he fed Crowley was at least some form of payment.


	58. Aziraphale/Crowley: Beautiful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Maybe one of them has a scar/other feature they're insecure about and the other assures them it just makes them more beautiful?  
> From: @Digital_Night_Sky (on Ao3)

“Well, you’ve just about preened my wings past perfection, dear boy,” Aziraphale chuckled. “I do suppose it is your turn.”

“Wh-what? My turn? You want to preen a demon’s wings?”

“I want to preen the demon’s wings that preened my angelic ones if he might allow me to… please, Crowley, I haven’t seen them since Eden,” He almost pouted. “Let me return this favor. It would be a real trouble for me if I didn’t return favors.”

Crowley sighed. “I keep mine preened pretty well, unlike your forgetfulness,” He said, hesitant. “But… if you want to try… Are you sure though?” He asked, almost wincing at the question. It wasn’t befitting of his normal confident persona he loved to maintain (or at least attempt to). But… these were matters of his wings. They were no longer the moonlight’s silky white that Aziraphale’s were. They were no longer a stunning radiance of brilliance. No, now they were Hell’s abyssal, consuming black. They spoke only of the rottenness in his soul that only came from his spending too much time with the wrong people. Not that he needed heaven. He didn’t. But… he needed Aziraphale. He needed to pretend like just one angel from heaven wouldn’t be disgusted in seeing what a fall will do to the brilliance of light that was their wings.

“Crowley, of course, I am… My dear boy, I must say you seem a bit… upset. Are you worried about your wings?” He asked softly. He couldn’t imagine why. They must be as well maintained as Crowley was, and he knew that his boy revelled in appearances. 

“They’re black,” he said plainly, trying to pretend that he wasn’t insecure. He hated to feel that way. He hated feeling powerless, or scared. He hated when he held none of the cards. In Hell, it was dangerous. With Aziraphale, it was devastating in a way that Hell could never hope to compare to. He wanted Aziraphale to stay with him. Fuck, if hanging with the wrong friends could make him fall, Aziraphale could make him  _ dive. _ He could never afford to lose him.

“I know that dear boy, I saw them at Eden. And I should like to see them again anyway if you might let me,” Aziraphale spoke slowly, letting himself radiate just a little bit more love than he normally did with Crowley (he’d tried not to radiate love, but it had always slipped out). “I daresay, I’m actually quite excited to preen your wings. Your feathers must be beautiful.”

Crowley tried not to flush, taking a breath. “Do-don’t say that I didn’t warn you, angel,” he said, his heart pounding. He shoved the fear gripping his heart down into his stomach and summoned his wings. They smacked the air a few times just with his anxieties, before settling down and acting like proper wings. 

Aziraphale’s fingers were already hungrily preening what feathers were slightly misplaced. “Your wings are so soft, Crowley,” He said softly, a sweet smile on his face as he worked. Goodness, they felt like silk, and they were glossy as well. It was like the stars at midnight, a candle’s light flicking echos and dots into the comforting midnight hue of those wings.

Crowley ducked his head, ignoring how his ears burned. “You actually like them?” He asked, trying to sound like it was a joke. If he could pretend that he wasn’t scared he wouldn’t, that would be best, after all.

“I love them. They’re the most beautiful feathers I’ve ever touched, probably the most beautiful feathers I’ve ever seen. You really do take care of them,” Aziraphale murmured, almost entranced. He was so happy he got to see them again. It was a beautiful gesture of companionship and trust to let him see them and touch them and preen them. He was grateful.

“Oh don’t say that now, Angel,” Crowley said, his heart skipping a few beats. “They’re black. You come from  _ heaven. _ ”

“Yes, I do come from heaven, but these wings are breathtaking and I promise you that. Your feathers are so soft and well maintained, and quite honestly the black feels like a welcoming midnight and all the light that graces your feathers dance about like constellations. Like demons, or perhaps at least you, Crowley, the blackness makes it interesting, it gives more to play with. It provides contrast. I know it’s a mark of you falling, but… Well… If you hadn’t have fallen I might have never met you.” Aziraphale studied the wings. They were perfect, preened and done all too soon. He gently pet the feathers now, admiring everything about what Crowley had thought was a mark of shame.

Crowley was speechless for a few minutes, in utter shock at how a reminder of his failures turned into a beautiful, romanticized reminder of how he even could have Aziraphale. “I think you’re the only angel to ever love a demon’s wings,” He said softly.

“But I do honestly love them,” Aziraphale murmured.

Crowley willed himself not to speak of who he loved in that moment, instead gently turning his face. “Thank you. For… for all this… and for preening me.”

“Yes… it was no trouble,” Aziraphale murmured, gently pulling his hands away after one last appreciative stroke. “They really are beautiful. Perhaps you should let me preen them again?”

“After I preen yours?” Crowley gave a twitch of a smile.

“Well that only sounds fair,” Aziraphale grinned, watching as Crowley’s wings dissipated. He urged himself not to hug him from behind.

Crowley turned around, meeting Aziraphale’s eyes. “I think we can make that an occasional thing. Who knows, I may even teach you my tricks if you’re good,” he smirked, shooting him a wink.

Aziraphale practically beamed. “Ah, well you know how I am with my books, but it sounds wonderful just the same. Perhaps you can get me to preen more often,” He broke into the grin that Crowley had suppressed before. “It’s a plan then?”

“You have my word, angel,” Crowley smiled, taking in the beauty of an angel (in love).


	59. Hastur/Ligur: Falling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bear with me on this one, I allowed them to keep their memories with falling for the sake of this fic. Perhaps after the revolution, they get wiped, I don't know. I kinda just took a lot of liberties as I wrote and enjoyed the dynamic. Also, an archangel was harmed in this fic but I mean (mild spoiler if you know my ships) his boyfriend's the archangel of healing so he'll be fine. May you enjoy the ideas, if not the writing ;)

_ "I'll find whoever did this to you and I swear I will make them  _ **_pay_ ** _ ," _ Hastur (or at least, that was what he had gone by recently) said, his voice cracking as he looked at his fallen lover. There was no way that Ligur of the two of them deserved to fall. He was… okay. Maybe he did deserve to. He spoke and wrote too much of revolutions, of ways to improve- but Hastur was the one who took those sayings to action! He was the one who pummelled another cherub for daring to take down his Ligur’s writings.

_ "But I don't want you to get hurt,  _ Hastur. There’s nothing that you can do. It was in God’s hands and God said I should fall for wanting a better world,” Ligur spat, his voice seething with scorn.

Hastur forced himself not to gently cup his face. “Well… Well if I can’t make him pay I’ll make him bleed another way.”

“Hastur, the cherubs will kill you, please,” Ligur begged.

“Ligur, I promise you that I am going to dive down to you. Fuck falling, I will do whatever I can to join you again, but before I do that, I’m going to hurt what matters to them.” 

“Hastur,” Ligur said, shocked and horrified and very much endeared as well. “Why would you do that?” He asked, not wanting to assume what he very much would like to believe.

“Because… I know that you are what’s right in  _ my _ universe. And I know that what you speak is right to me. I believe in you… and you’re my best friend, Ligur. I would never leave you behind. Fuck, someone’s got to protect you now if Heaven won’t, after all.”

Ligur softened a bit at that. “Please be safe, Hastur. I don’t want you to get hurt.” He hoped that he heard Hastur’s words from today again in his dreams. He felt higher than heaven ever could lift him and it was sickly and perfectly strange.

Hastur did everything he could to remember Ligur saying that. He would let it echo in his ears to lift his heart and to provide him a purpose. “I have to go,” he said finally. “I just know I don’t have much time to do this, I- I’ll see you on the other side.”

Ligur’s eyes widened at the suddenness. “Promise you’ll come back to me!” He called.  
“I promise!” Hastur said quickly, rising. He grabbed his sword, slinking past guards with a vengeance in his eyes. Ligur’s words echoed in his ears as he made his way into Gabriel’s office.

The angel looked at him, confused for a moment, and Hastur took it, stabbing him in the sternum with a flaming sword. The archangel screamed, and guards rushed in, but Hastur had fallen before they could seize him, the sword clattering to the ground, trembling for a moment, the motion echoing Gabriel’s pale shaking.

Hastur blinked, his wings materializing and catching him before he plummetted asphalt-first into Hell’s door. Ligur was there, watching as he took in what Hastur had become in that short, life-changing trip. 

“What did you do?” Ligur asked eventually, his voice soft.

“Stabbed Gabriel with a flaming sword,” Hastur replied, looking at Ligur. Emotions swelled in him, although they were duller, but they still forced his body into motion as though he were a marionette, and he hugged Ligur tight. “I’m with you now, though,” he murmured, his night-sky wings enveloping who he’d fallen for.

Ligur hugged him back. “We can’t be caught doing this down there,” Ligur whispered in his ear. “We can’t be soft anymore. We have to be tough, and we have to work against the angels. It’s not a moral battle anymore, it’s personal. But… when the doors are locked if you happen to be in my room… I would let you do this again.” Ligur pulled away slowly, meeting his eyes. “Welcome to Hell, my soldier,” He whispered, allowing the nickname to survive the fall.

Hastur nodded dutifully, closing his heart for the time being. After the war, he could cherish Ligur, but in the line of duty, you do what needs to be done.

So they did what needed to be done.


	60. Aziraphale/Crowley: How they look at each other

It was obvious that they had fallen. You could see it all in  _ how they would look at each other _ . After all, Crowley didn’t often let his gaze linger on those he was not invested in, and when Crowley’s gaze lingered, Aziraphale’s eyes often crinkled at the edges. Only Crowley could make them do that.

Raphael hated that, marking another reason down on his list of why they should know that they’re in love and have confessed already. It was frustrating.


	61. Gabriel/Raphael: Elderitch "I love you"

_ "I love you,”  _ Gabriel murmured, holding Raphael securely in his arms as he nuzzled him. His eldritch form was beyond large, but he didn’t mind that. It just meant he could keep Raphael safer. All three of his mouths stole a kiss to his forehead.

_ "I love you too-"  _ Raphael said hastily, warmed by the sheer affection of Gabriel.

_ "No, I mean I really love you,”  _ Gabriel said, holding him dear.

_ "O-oh- _ ” Raphael began. “Well, you know that your eldritch form is much more affectionate than your regular… corporation,” He said softly.

“Yes, but I still love you,” Gabriel said, petting his hair. “At least this form does.”

Raphael sucked in a breath, unsure if he was taking advantage of the other, but it was just a lot to deal with when he was so comfortable. “I love you too,” he said softly.


	62. Raphael and Michael: "I'm your superior officer, go away."

_ “As your superior officer, go away,”  _ Michael said, pulling another of Gabriel’s color-coded files in front of him.

“Michael, Gabriel is concerned about you,” Raphael attempted, breaking through the barrier of the doorway despite Michael’s order.

“It was a joke,” Michael maintained. “Tell him that I’m fine; he trusts your word and will drop it.”

Raphael frowned. “I don’t think you’re fine though. I don’t think that was a joke… I know it must be hard… with… well…”

“With what?” Michael met his eyes, narrowing his own. He didn’t know that anyone was on to him.

“I’m the archangel of these romances, Michael. I know enough to know what’s hurting you… what’s  _ been _ hurting you.”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Raphael,” Michael maintained, trying to go back to his file.

“Well, that’s perfectly fine. The humans have invented something else to try and fix these mental troubles. Now, let me just attach these electrodes to your forehead- and it’ll just feel like a quick zap.”

Michael grabbed his wrist before he could do so, not liking the sound of any of that.  _ “Leave. _ If you leave me alone… I’ll stop by tomorrow. For a  _ short _ talk with you. But keep in mind, I’m fine,” Michael said stubbornly.

Raphael sighed, a bit disappointed he couldn’t test his new device yet. “Alright then, we’ll talk tomorrow.” He put it back in his messenger bag, reluctantly leaving. He wished he could do more. And Gabriel would be worried as he came back… Raphael supposed he’d tell him that Michael would be okay instead. Hopefully, that was true enough and comforting enough for them both.


	63. Aziraphale/Crowley: When did you learn to do that?

_ "When did you learn how to do that?" _ Crowley asked as he stared at the cherry stem.

“Ah, well you remember my time at that discreet little gentleman’s club, correct?” Aziraphale smiled, after plucking the perfectly tied stem off his tongue and onto his plate. 

“They taught you how to do that?”

“Oh they taught a lot of strange skills, it was a goofy club, but it was delightful even so,” Aziraphale said warmly.

Crowley blinked, impressed. “Can you teach me how to do it?” He asked.

“I can try, once we’re home, however. I don’t want to disrupt the restaurant… But I’m not sure how it would work with your tongue… it’s a bit different than mine.”

“Well, maybe it’ll work better… I guess we’ll see when we get home?”

“If you’d like to,” Aziraphale smiled.

Crowley nodded, giving a little half smirk. “I never pegged you to be the type to do that.”

“Ah… well, I’m aware of the connotations, but the act in itself is quite innocent,” said Aziraphale quickly, doing his best not to stare at Crowley. He didn’t need to reveal his horribly unacceptable fantasies, especially not with the subject (who would also have to be subjected to the risk even if it were successful). 

“I suppose,” Crowley said, a bit disappointed. “Well, are you about done?”

“I’ll cover it,” Aziraphale said, flagging down the waiter.


	64. Aziraphale/Crowley: To feel loved beyond compare

A demon had never looked so beautiful as when Crowley’s thin, coy lips curled into that irresistible smile that assured Aziraphale down to his core that he was irreplaceable. It twisted his insides, convincing him that a lifetime of managing (and attempting to contain or prevent) Crowley’s messes was utterly worth it if it was tied to a lifetime of seeing that face. After all, Crowley made him feel more loving and angelic and  _ good _ than even heaven knew how. Crowley understood him- and fuck, he understood Crowley. They could talk and laugh and joke and cry, and Crowley… well, he was so important to him that labeling him as his best friend just seemed pathetic. After all, if he lost Crowley he knew he would never be the same- and for the worse. Funny how a fallen angel made him a better one. He blinked, momentarily breaking his gaze from Crowley’s brilliance, and when he resumed his transfixed stare Crowley dared to enchant him with one of his melodious little giggles.

“Angel, I’ve never seen you be so dorky like this… And so early in the morning, too,” The last bit whined like a complaint, but they both knew it was for play. He really was tired, though. A yawn tore its way out of his throat as proof. 

“Ah, well, dear boy,” Aziraphale stammered, his pale cheeks beginning to darken with the hues of love. “You just looked so tired. It was… well, beautiful, and… dare I say, it was endearing,” he mumbled the second adjective shyly. It was too close to what he really meant, especially to say to a demon, even one as perfectly imperfect as Crowley.

Crowley held the eye contact, his tired mind lazily clunking and clammering to decipher the meaning of all of this. “Mm… Thought heaven had lots of beautiful things, though… nn lots of good things for an angel like you.” His lips settled into a pout as he wiped at his eyes.

“Yes, they do, Crowley, but nothing in this world could ever be close enough to rival you, and though you bring evil into this world… you make it interesting, and I care about you.”

Crowley’s stomach twisted with anguished desire. It could have been today. Maybe that day would never come, though. After all, even Romeo and Juliet weren’t as forbidden or scorned as a demon and an angel would be if they were to… meet in the middle, per se. So he really shouldn’t blame Aziraphale or despair. This  _ was _ simpler but in the worst way. “I care about you too, Aziraphale, don’t forget it.” Golden serpentine eyes clashed against the angel’s pure sky blue ones. It was as gorgeous as the sky’s that morning they’d met in Eden.

Aziraphale gazed into those breathtaking, mischievous eyes he’d grown to crave, and he couldn’t help but find the notion that he wouldn’t feel that way with Crowley’s gaze making him out to be a trophy quite ridiculous. “Crowley, I promise that as long as you’re around, I will always feel special.”

Crowley smiled, feeling the tension of unrequited, obsessed adoration. “Good… you deserve to,” he murmured, rolling to the side slightly and hugging him.

Aziraphale wrapped his arms around him protectively in return. “You’re quite precious yourself, dear boy,” he murmured.

Crowley quirked an eyebrow. “Why?” He said, nuzzling into the warm softness of Aziraphale.

“You make the world interesting. You make it exciting… and to make me feel so… valued, well, only you can do that.” Aziraphale’s voice was whispery, soft, and kind.

And Crowley felt safe. He held his angel just a little tighter, wanting to stay in the dreaminess of this sanctuary for as long as he could.


	65. Hastur/Ligur: Not fair (Mild sexual mentions/implications)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's no sex in this chapter, but implied masturbation and sexual fantasies and the like

His gasp was a drug, an addictive, sinful, enticing trap that made Hastur feel like every erogenous zone his body dared to keep was vibrating in the warmest, most inviting way.

It really wasn’t fair, just one sound and he would have to leave a meeting so he didn’t tackle and take his sinful,  _ evil _ , coy little self right there. Like a pitiful, sex-crazed animal (a.k.a. Asmodeus) he would bite his filthy hand, hidden away in a dingy bathroom stall as he tried to make it go away without touching himself. But that always took too long, so a few minutes in he would break.

Ligur really didn’t have the right to make Hastur’s disgusting old body curl, pant, groan, and move all for him. He didn’t have the right to claim his mind with the images that would make even Asmodeus blush. He didn’t have the right to turn his brain into an echo chamber of every sound that made Hastur’s stomach flip. But he did, and he did it without realizing.

It wasn’t fair that one Duke of Hell was more powerful than the other, but that was a weak excuse to hide his own feelings.

Damn Ligur.


	66. Hastur/Ligur: Better Service

“You make my brain go foggy,” Ligur accused, pushing away Hastur’s stupid, stinky, gross, and yet all-too-loveable face.

Hastur grinned, meeting his eyes as he forced down the thrill at even just being touched by Ligur. “I’m not even doing anything,” he said, trying to poison the hope growing in his heart before it got big enough to hurt him.

“Stop looking at me like that, I need to get this done before the whole office is down.”

It was kind of sad that “the whole office” could honestly just refer to Ligur most days.

Hastur chuckled, a coy smirk blessing his lips. Ligur hated him for that. 

“Yeah? You getting ready for me to babysit your arse?” Hastur teased, getting a kick to the shin for his trouble.

“No one said  _ you _ have to babysit me. I- I could get someone else to,” Ligur maintained, glaring in Hastur’s eyes, his own turning magenta with his stubbornness and pride.

“Oh yeah? Well none of them are as  _ experienced _ as me. And I tell you- this year you’re gonna love it- and you won’t get away!”

Ligur scoffed at that. “What are you planning, maggot king?”

Hastur grinned. “Tunnels- tunnels and warm, relaxing endpoints. Instead of hiding behind the dryer, you can be cozied up amongst a warm, twiggy bed.”

“You really got this planned, huh?” Ligur scoffed, amused as he watched how excited Hastur was.

And he was excited. Winter, after all, was when Hastur could secretly (and more importantly, safely) show and profess his love.

“I do. You can’t  _ afford _ to let anyone else watch you. After all, I’ve kept you safe this long.”

Ligur rolled his eyes. “Last year I had a lot of paperwork over you murdering coworkers because they- and I quote- threatened me.”

“They deserved it. Necessary losses. Can’t make demons without killing demons.”

Ligur pinched the bridge of his nose. “ _ No _ , but okay then. You sure about that, though? I bet Dagon would be able to watch me  _ without _ culling employees.”

Hastur’s mouth twitched at the mention of Dagon. Like Hell would he let her touch his precious Ligur. “I’ll be better- only the  _ really _ necessary cullings. Promise.” He met Ligur’s eyes, almost shivering to find cool blue surrounded by a murky green. Skeptical and unsure?

“You better… I know you’re trying to keep me alive, but if you have to kill half the office to do it, you need to do it better,” Ligur said critically.

“I- I will! I am! I have the tunnels,” Hastur whined, trying not to emulate a kicked puppy.

“Mm… You better do better, or next year I  _ will _ have Dagon watch me,” Ligur grumbled, confident that Hastur’s hate and mistrust would secure him better service.

Hastur bit back his own growl at that. He’d feel betrayed if the notion in Hell wasn’t laughable. They all were traitors and rebels. “She won’t be taking care of you. Promise,” Hastur said stubbornly.

Hastur made sure that she'd never had the chance to.


	67. Aziraphale/Crowley: Ex-cherub

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Aziraphale has scars on the sides of his lower back. They're where his other wings used to be pre-demotion. Crowley notices while preening him.

Crowley sighed as he took in the expanse of Aziraphale’s back. It was surprising how his shoulders were just a bit broader than Crowleys (even though he was a bit shorter), and how his back curved and showed off a musculature that would make even Michaelangelo weep. He was quite the specimen. His fingers gently began to sort out the ruffled feathers as he took it all in, but his eyes paused at an anomaly on the canvas. He squinted, glad his prescription sunglasses were still on as he inspected the skin secretly, his hands continuing to do their duty. 

Near the base of his back, three per side, there were rather large dots of scars. They were perfectly symmetrical, and Crowley gazed at them for a while, trying to decipher what it could be from. He didn’t think Aziraphale had ever gone to war, and even if he had, those were not scars from war. They would be scars from torture. But perfectly symmetrical torture didn’t make sense unless it was an angel doing it perhaps, but why would an angel hurt their own?

The curiosity was too much, but Crowley was the one who had such a low tolerance for curiosity that he’d helped humans come into their chaos, so any curiosity was too much.

“Aziraphale?” He asked, keeping his voice as soft and innocent and endearing as he could to appeal to his affection for feeling protective. He needed whatever advantages he could get.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale gave a little smile, a bit confused at the sudden question.

“There are some scars on your back… what are they?” He asked, a slight frown playing on his lips after the question. He rubbed at his wing slightly as he fixed it up to be prettier.

Aziraphale blinked. He’d… well… he’d forgotten about them- not permanently, just sometimes. Most times, now that he was preoccupied with Crowley often. It was easy to forget his shortcomings around Crowley. Dangerously easy.

“My dear boy, those were when I used to be a cherub,” He said simply, trying not to let any sourness seep into his words.

Crowley blinked, looking at them. He almost wanted to touch them, by some strange, compelling force inside him. “You were a cherub?” He said, to fill the air.

“I  _ was _ a cherub. I was demoted.”

“For what?” He asked, staring at the scars. A cherub… no wonder he was so muscular, even after years of Crowley feeding him into a blissful, comfortable, soft, warm fatness. No wonder he could carry Crowley in just one arm if he needed to. No wonder he was ever so alert and protective whenever he felt there might be a danger to either of them. A cherub…

“God was dissatisfied. But we wouldn’t have met if I hadn’t become a Principality. So I’m grateful,” Aziraphale maintained, keeping his voice as even as he could. It did hurt, it felt like a betrayal or a scorn to be demoted like that, but Crowley had fallen, so he knew scorn and betrayal better than he.

“Yes… I’m glad I met you too,” Crowley said quickly, gently petting a wing to distract him. “And honestly, if you were still a cherub when I met you I probably wouldn’t have stuck around,” He chuckled, trying to lighten the mood because he would have been scarier, he knew that.

It was important that Aziraphale didn’t scare him. To both of them.

Aziraphale chuckled at that, feeling just a little bit better. “Well, I’m quite glad you stuck around… I wouldn’t want to be a cherub if you wouldn’t be with me.”

Crowley gave a little smile. “To not getting promoted, then.”

Aziraphale laughed at that. “To not getting promoted?” He grinned.

Crowley hugged him from behind, figuring he could fix the wings more if he messed them up a little. Aziraphale loved when Crowley tended to his wings. “With confidence now, angel, come on, you’re big and tough, act like it,” He grinned, nuzzling him slightly.

Aziraphale flushed, feeling warm down to his very toes with how Crowley treated him. “To not getting promoted,” he said happily, chuckling as he nuzzled Crowley back, holding his hands against his warm belly.

A strong feeling of love radiated through the bookshop.


	68. TV: Michael/Beelzebub: Bath Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Bubble Bath  
> Also, JaneVolturi asked for something with TV Michael- I did something totally different, but I wanted to do something with her anyway with a ship that I cared for instead.  
> Hope you all enjoy :)

Before Michael’s beloved had fallen, the pair had always enjoyed the sunshine and the flower gardens. Beelzebub had been the most beautiful gardener, so sweet and loving to nature that Michael supposed she just loved nature more than god. She couldn’t blame her. Beelzebub had talked to nature, tended to it, and been loved in return by it day by day and hour by hour. It was her life. God… God was never that prevalent in her life. Michael was one of the few who talked to him.

But after a day’s work tending to the beautiful flora of heaven, Beelzebub had loved to enjoy sweet bubble baths. Michael would come in, closing the door with a coy, secretive smile, the humidity in the air confirming everything she knew was true. When she looked over to her sweetheart, she would find Beelzebub slowly beginning to blink her eyes awake, looking the picture of peace as she laid in the warm, bubble-filled tub.

Michael had always tutted to her, but the disciplinary tone she normally had always softened as she saw Beelzebub’s beautiful face gazing back. She turned her stomach to jelly. She always would approach, starting to slip off her robe and join her in the warmth. Miraculously, there was always enough room to be comfortable…

And once she was in the tub, after they had cuddled for a while, Michael would take it upon herself to take care of her little gardener. She took care of everything, she knew that, but taking care of Beelzebub was just different. She enjoyed it- no- she  _ craved _ it. She loved to help her love, taking it as an excuse to touch her as she revelled in making her life just a little bit easier. 

Beelzebub always left the tub without a speck of dirt, not even under the fingernails.

Afterward, they would curl up in plush, warm white robes, laying together in a bed big enough for two. Michael would pet her hair, and Beelzebub would sing to Michael, utterly entranced and adoring.

And then… then it was all gone. Neither of them expected to be curled up in each other’s arms one day and then be forever separated the next. Neither of them expected a gardener to fall for loving nature too much. 

Michael changed that day. She watched everything that had made heaven heavenly fall, and yet she was here to maintain the rest of everyone else’s happiness and it just… it broke her a little bit inside. She didn’t see how she could fully trust when God had made himself untrustworthy. She didn’t see how kindness and compassion were the answers when her Beelzebub was snatched away for nothing. 

She didn’t feel remorse for keeping contact with Hell.

She didn’t feel remorse for breaking Gabriel’s misguided heart.

She didn’t feel remorse for preparing the troops of heaven for war.

She should have.

But all of those shoulds became irrelevant. 

Mirroring Beelzebub’s falling, the failed apocalypse was a sudden coming of hope, and Michael didn’t know what to do with herself. But the next time they met in that utterly boring, fully mediocre meeting room that Heaven and Hell debates in, she pulled Beelzebub aside after the meeting. It was scary, and both of them kept eyes to make sure that no one remained, but when the perimeter was secure, Michael pulled Beelzebub into a hug.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Michael breathed. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I can’t help but hope I’ll be able to see you again.” She cupped that small face, ignoring the flies that loved their master much too much.

Beelzebub met her eyes, tearing up. “I thought you would have wanted it over since I fell,” she said, her voice wobbling. She hated being so vulnerable.

Michael pressed her forehead against the demon’s, uncaring. “I know who you are. I love you, and I’ve loved you for so long. Neither of us expected you to fall... “ She nuzzled her slightly. “I just… right now I care about the future. We can’t change the past… Neither of us can, but… a tomorrow with you in it… it would mean happiness and purpose again, Beelzebub,” she whispered.

Beelzebub took a shaky breath, hugging her tight. “We can meet here- or on Earth.”

“Earth, it’s bigger, more secret,” Michael said, holding Beelzebub close, and gently pressing her head against her heart, letting Beelzebub listen to the beats as she spoke.

Beelzebub nodded. “After 7. We should be done with work. We’ll find better places, but for now, why don’t we go to the duck park we caught Crowley and Aziraphale at?”

“I’ll meet you tomorrow. 7:30, sharp. I- I’ll get you dinner. Let’s eat dinner together.”

And they did. It wasn’t the bubble bath times that their early love featured, but it was something they would come into. Besides, being together was the important part at the end of the day.


	69. Hastur/Ligur: "It's all so confusing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In that tasty AU where Adam brings Ligur back, but with the added flavor of Adam not letting Ligur and Hastur meet until they go on a few dates and then they see each other on a date. I wrote this at 1 am so sorry if it's a bit confusing itself

“It’s all so confusing… I don’t know what the world is like hardly anymore,” Ligur frowned, looking down at his hands. He just… he comes back and the world is changed and he can’t go home or see Hastur and everyone who tries to explain it can’t do it right. Because none of them are Hastur. And he doesn’t know why he can’t go home or why he can’t see Hastur either. But he can’t. So now he’s stuck up here, inhaling Aziraphale’s sour-cream mashed potatoes like it’s air just trying to alleviate some of the stress.

He was an old demon. He wasn’t meant to be here. But he supposed he couldn’t be mad about the new technology that let Aziraphale print him out a picture of a toad. He kept it in his pocket all the times that he wasn’t staring at it, but he stared at it a lot. He missed Hastur. They just… they understood each other. They cared about each other. They had each other’s back.

Hastur did the dirty work, the killings, and Ligur did the paperwork. And after work, Hastur would cook for him and they would talk and Murky and Lurky would hold their little hands together as Ligur leaned against Hastur, eventually falling asleep.

It was a secret, but it was perfect. And now all of it was gone and he didn’t know why or what was happening. His heart begged him for home each minute, honestly, that was all he wanted. He wanted to see Hastur and be curled up and bed and he was tired of this dating.

Unbeknownst to him, his next date was with the one that he longed for, Adam didn’t want them to go mad, after all.


	70. Aziraphale/Crowley: Bad Little Boy Songfic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loosely inspired from Bad Little Boy from Adventure Time

Crowley glanced over to his angel, a little smile playing on his lips as he finally set down his cinnamon-kissed cocoa. It was beautiful, but, well. They were a demon and an angel. “Aziraphale, why are you here?” He asked softly.

“What do you mean, dear boy? This is my book shop,” Aziraphale said, settling down beside Crowley and sipping his own drink. There was a sickly amount of marshmallow fluff atop it, but it was still endearing, even when it clung to his lip.

Crowley chuckled. “No, not here… on earth, with me. I’m an evil demon and I’m descending further into the ranks with every passing day.”

Aziraphale blinked. “Ah, well, I suppose I could ask the same. I’m an angel, a good being of light, and yet you’re here. You must have something within you that wants to be around me,” He said, keeping his voice level.

“Who’s to say I’m not here to tempt you?” Crowley chuckled, winking.

“And who’s to say I’m not to do the same, dear boy?” Aziraphale smirked.

Crowley raised an eyebrow, chuckling. “Touche… but angels can fall and demons can’t rise, sooo~.”

“Just because a demon hasn’t risen doesn’t mean they can’t. Perhaps you’ll be the first,” Aziraphale smiled. “Besides, I like it down here. It’s a middle ground that’s interesting and yet… good... “

Crowley grew a bit sheepish. “I… I like it up here. Nicer than Hell, in more than one way,” he scoffed, and Aziraphale chuckled at the pun. Crowley tried to ignore the twinge in his heart.

The middle ground… it was the best home for them, and they both knew it to their cores.


	71. Gabriel/Raphael: "My brain goes stupid when I see you."

“My brain goes stupid when I see you, I’m sorry,” Gabriel murmured, his cheeks starting to get hot as he rubbed the back of his neck.

Raphael’s cheeks warmed, and he smiled. “When I see you, my heart goes stupid,” he replied, and it did. Sometimes it was concerning to just how attractive Gabriel was when he was stupid. And he got after Aziraphale’s antics…

“But... your heart can think?” Gabriel’s brow furrowed and he looked the picture of confused.

Raphael sucked in a breath. Oh, God… Not fair. “No, no, it just makes me feel all fuzzy,” he said, trying to hone in his affectionate aura. He was  _ failing. _

“Oh… Of course,” Gabriel said shyly. “So you’re okay?”

“With you, Gabriel, I’m more than okay. You make me happy.”

“You make me happy too,” Gabriel blurted quickly.

Raphel softened. “Good,” he kissed his cheek, meeting Gabriel’s shining eyes.

Gabriel warmed. “Yeah… Good.” He smiled.


	72. Aziraphale/Crowley: Hold me tight or don't songfic

“I don’t even like you!” The memory echoed through Crowley’s mind relentlessly. The apocalypse was well on its way and… and six thousand years of friendship culminated to Aziraphale’s plea filling his pitiful mind.

It wouldn’t matter if he didn’t care so much about Aziraphale. It wouldn’t matter if Aziraphale wasn’t the one whom he had fallen for. It wouldn’t matter if Aziraphale brightened up his world enough to make it worth living. He was such a bastard sometimes.

And yet his- no, not his… Aziraphale’s bastardly demeanor- the small bits of craziness that they shared (the specific ones that lead an angel and a demon into becoming irreplaceable friends), well, it felt like Crowley’s home now. It was a comfort to know Aziraphale’s bookshop was also his home, and that Crowley’s flat (as much as a home as it could be) was also Aziraphale’s. So long as they were together, Crowley felt secure in some base sort of sense. 

Aziraphale even helped fix the apocalypse. 

He did all of that for Crowley, and now it was that he didn't like him.

He sucked in a desperate breath, closing his eyes as he rubbed at them, shaking his head slightly. He needed to stop this. Desperately. He couldn’t keep dwelling on this. He grabbed out a bottle of his best scotch. It was a thousand years old, not the oldest in his secret liquor stash, but it was up there. It would get him drunk.

He downed some of the liquid, ignoring the burning on his tongue. Hell really made liquor’s taste seem like nothing. 

Like the nothing he was to Aziraphale. He winced at that thought, gripping the bottle a bit tighter. Come on… fuck, six thousand years may have passed, but Aziraphale didn’t owe him anything. He didn’t. And Crowley would be okay with or without him. With or without his love. With or without seeing him. 

Tears tried to fight their ways up to his eyes and he nearly growled. He hated Aziraphale for cultivating that tiny spark of good in him. He hated how soft he was growing. Or… well… he hated it now. He didn’t hate it when Aziraphale would smile at him or look proud or laugh. It was worth it then. But a millennia-old scotch and a hyperactive imagination cried for some dirt to be bitter about.

He took a breath again, wiping at his eyes slightly. Fuck… it was so crazy to think this was how it all could end though. Six thousand years… loving him for six thousand years and he may not want to even be friends. Six thousand years of growing into a strange codependence and now he may find himself walking alone. 

He could puke at that.

He wouldn’t. He forced it down, his fingers curling into fists as he tried to harden himself just a little bit. 

“I don’t even like you,” He muttered, mocking Aziraphale as he tried to make himself bitter. It didn’t work. He slumped down, sighing as he let his corporation be held by the table for now.

A knock sounded at the door, but it opened before Crowley could respond. Aziraphale’s sheepish form entered, looking to his dear boy who didn’t look like he felt as dear as he should. It was Aziraphale’s fault.

“Crowley,” he greeted, noting the scotch as he slowly stepped forth.

Crowley let his eyes lazily wander to Aziraphale, but he didn’t respond.

“You look very upset,” Aziraphale said sheepishly, sitting down beside him.

“Nonononono apocalypse is just around the corner and my friend says he doesn’t like me, so I’m feeling great,” Crowley scrunched up his nose and glared.

Aziraphale frowned, his hand gently guiding a dress of Crowley’s hair behind his ear. “My dear boy… I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do or say. It’s the apocalypse and I don’t know how to handle it. I… I want to be a good angel- be an informant, but-but upstairs keeps disregarding the information. I think they would watch humanity burn without an inkling of a conscience bugging them. And I wouldn’t.”

“I want to find us a new place to go,” Crowley said sadly. “Somewhere no one will find us.”

“Crowley… we love humans. We love Earth. We have to fight for it.”

“You don’t even want to fight with me, do you?” Crowley said, raising his voice as his passions swelled.

Aziraphale’s heart twinged with guilt at that. “I do… I just don’t know how to do it, Crowley. I don’t want to fall.”

“It doesn’t matter what you do or what you did, God just chooses. God doesn’t care,” Crowley sniffled, feeling even lower. As though it was his fault he fell… as though he was now low down dirty scum for falling…

Aziraphale frowned. “Crowley, bear with me, please… I do like you. Let me formulate a plan. I’m working on it, I’m nearly there. My secret operatives are so close.”

“It’s not gonna work… just need to find somewhere else,” Crowley slurred.

“My dear boy,” Aziraphale sighed. “Okay… find us somewhere else- as a backup plan. But… I do care about you, Crowley. I needed you to know that I do and I’m sorry. You’re the reason I want to save this world, you know.”

Crowley teared up a little bit, so he hid his eyes in his sleeve. “Can you give me a hug?” He asked, his voice wavering. He was so scared to be vulnerable.

But yet again, Aziraphale cultivated it, praising it through quickly wrapping his arms around his serpent, nuzzling at his hair. “My dear boy, I care about you past the ends of the earth,” he whispered in his ear, rubbing his back.

Crowley cried quietly, letting him comfort him once more. He would rather be held tight than try to be hard and tough alone.


	73. Aziraphale/Crowley: Bubbly Songfic

Crowley didn’t know that demons could feel so light and secure. He swore that Aziraphale was more magical than he let on, even when he did his dumb trick magic shtick. The angel shifted, wrapping more of himself around Crowley’s thin form, gently rubbing his chest over his heart as he adjusted. 

His stomach twisted and his heart clenched, warmth flowing through him at the gesture, his cheeks burning. Effortlessly Aziraphale could relax him. 

Rain plodded down outside as Crowley contemplated his affections, but before long Aziraphale lulled him into a sleep he hadn’t expected to indulge in. He loved to sleep.

And he loved to dream of Aziraphale.


	74. Aziraphale/Crowley, Hastur/Ligur, Gabriel/Raphael, Michael/Lucifer (In order): The little things they do

In a world of an impending apocalypse, you’d think it were the big things that mattered, but when faced with the possibilities of an eternity of misery, Crowley found himself loving the little ways that he and Aziraphale would serve each other. He loved how he would drive Aziraphale, or pick him up groceries, or how he would preen him and make sure that he was taking care of himself. He loved how Aziraphale would feed him in return, or make him cocoa, or how he would carry Crowley around the house so casually, just letting the touch-starved demon enjoy being embraced.

And they weren’t the only ones. Hastur and Ligur, they wanted the war, but… well, Ligur let Hastur work on the killings. They both knew there were serious risks with the upcoming second coming. And those times called for the creature comforts, the small things. They called for Hastur sliding his paperwork over with the same pleading, innocent look that had started this all, and it called for Hastur tending to Ligur, guarding him and giving him what comfort he could. It called for the nights when Hastur would cook for his love, and when Ligur would let Hastur feed him because he knew that he loved to. It called for when they would fall asleep together, holding each other close and tight as though nothing could hurt them there.

Raphael also partook in these musings. He was confident in Heaven prevailing, but… It was a war, and he dreaded the idea that he might find Gabriel returning to his sickbed a broken or dying angel. Too often those thoughts plagued him, and he shuddered them away, instead attempting to revel in Gabriel sorting through his desk to tidy it, or the way he would hold or carry him as though Raphael was helpless. He didn’t mind looking helpless to Gabriel. He, in return, enjoyed making sure that Gabriel at least relaxed some during his break, and though coffee was a stimulant, it was one of the few things that Gabriel loved outside of work unequivocally. He hated to think he may miss being able to bring Gabriel coffee and get that proud, beaming smile in return.

Michael and Lucifer didn’t have the small things anymore, though. They instead had spent the entire six millennia mourning the loss of them.

The small things were so important.


	75. Crowley/Shadwell, Aziraphale/Crowley: "You go too fast for me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reasons why to make a move on the demon who literally tempted man to join the chaotic ranks: firstly, he'll fuck all your favorite artists, secondly, he'll fuck out of spite, and thirdly, he's kinda a hoe.  
> Mentions of/Implied sex  
> Shadwell is a fling, not a ship but the TENSION in the show!

Enough time had passed, and Crowley was intent on insurance. He was intent on insurance and intent on a heist, and he had hired a crew that ought to be competent enough to get him what he wanted. But he hadn’t expected for one member of the crew to be different, and he hadn’t expected the piercing gaze and sexual tension as they spoke of witches. 

Normally Crowley didn’t go for a random guy off the street. He actually tended to prefer dangerously trying to get in the pants of the artists and writers Aziraphale loved, but as Crowley stumbled across him again for their talk about Shadwell’s useful army, he figured he would be a contact. And besides, he was handsome, and Crowley was mad at Aziraphale for not helping him and not making any moves, so he figured he would be a way to spend the time. 

A business card was exchanged, and Crowley attempted to look coy, nodding as he slipped it in his pocket. “We’ll keep in contact,” He dared to shoot him a wink, loving the blues in his eyes that could never rival Aziraphale’s, but still… blue eyes that pierced straight to his heart. Shadwell sent him a coy nod in return, a confident young man eager to experiment, and he couldn’t deny that they had a tension that just needed to be sated with sexual releases. He also couldn’t deny that the mental image of the man in front of him partaking was… enticing beyond how much a fantasy ought to be. He coughed, turning away as he went to go home, his mind racing as he tried to play it cool.

Crowley also tried to play it cool as he went back to the car. He slunk in and startled as he noticed Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale wished he hadn’t noticed Crowley before he got in. His mind raced as they conversed, his mind present on seeing him with that gentleman, and seeing him coy and dare-he-say-it, flirtatious. It made a sort of furious love burn in his gut, and while he was grateful that Crowley seemed endeared by the gesture, and while it helped that he may not see that man again, the anger still insisted upon springing from his lips.

“You go too fast for me, Crowley,” he had said, and then he had left. His mind raced. He just, he knew he couldn’t compete with Shadwell. He couldn’t just drop everything and give into such… unholy, tempting desires. He was scared, and he was an angel. Crowley could date thousands of men before Aziraphale could even bring himself to snag one date with him.

But that was his fault.

He was still mad.

And Crowley was confused and hurt as the accusation echoed in his mind. So who could blame him if he broke his echo chambers by distracting himself in someone who had enough chemistry and tension with him to hold his attention? And who could blame him  _ when _ he did?

And when the night was over Shadwell had no regrets and Crowley had no echoing thoughts to worry about. Instead, it all was a pleasurable haze.


	76. Hastur/Ligur: MIss you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was pretty tired when I wrote this but I figured I'd post anyway

“I miss you,” Hastur said, looking at Ligur anxiously as his non-husband buttoned his shirt.

“I haven’t left,” Ligur responded.

“You’re going to. I miss you… are you sure I can’t go?”

“I’m sure… it’s something I have to do myself. It’s diplomatic.”

“You need a body guard.”

“Hastur.”

“If anything happens to you, I’ll murder everyone involved.”

“Okay,” Ligur looked down, rubbing his arm with warm cheeks. “That sounds good.”

“And you’ll be back soon?”

“In two days,” Ligur responded.

Hastur nodded. “Okay… be safe for me,” He said softly, gently kissing his cheek. Ligur gave a smile.

They both were surprised at how overjoyed Hastur was when Ligur came back.


	77. Gabriel/Raphael(Mention): The way god intended

“Black and blue were the colors that god intended for paperwork, Uriel!” Gabriel yelled as he walked in the office, brandishing the incorrigible work that Uriel had done in pink glittery gel pen. It made him sick to look at it!

Uriel looked at the other Archangel, an innocent smirk on his face. “Oh, is that the case now?” He asked, jotting down the line in his ‘Stupid shit Gabriel says’ book. “I hadn’t seen the note on there, of that rule, is all.”

Gabriel glared daggers, utterly offended. “It’s an unspoken, godly rule, now spoken unto you! I need this in black or blue pen before I can accept it.”

Uriel bit back a groan, deciding to indulge in how upset Gabriel was by this. “Oh, of course, yon dictator.”

Gabriel slammed the paperwork on his desk, a fresh copy on the bottom. “I will see it tomorrow,” he said, storming off to Raphael’s. 

The archangel of healing and love made the medicinal ward feel caring and kind and homely. He knew that just by seeing the purest angel of them all his heart and troubles would dissipate into a serene happiness, even if just for a little while. He loved the medicinal ward.


	78. Gabriel/Raphael: The proposal(s)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: A plans on proposing during a lovely evening out with B. Problem is, B does too. Right as A does theirs

It had been too long to wait. Six thousand years and Gabriel still hadn’t proposed. It was preposterous, and Raphael knew that he was a loveable idiot, especially with matters of the heart, but this was too much. He wanted to be more formally joined. He wanted their union to be recognized by god. So he told Gabriel he had a plan and to not be busy for a night. And it was a  _ nice _ night. One that you ought to propose on.

One that he had a wonderful garden walk where they held hands and spoke soft words and laughed together. Afterward, he brought them to a little cafe, knowing that coffee was Gabriel’s only restaurant temptation, and as they spoke it was nice and loving and warm. Until the moment. Then it grew awkward.

Gabriel, upon very fervent urging by an exasperated and caring Michael, had taken it upon himself to get a wedding band for Raphael. It was encrusted with rose quartz, because pink looked nice upon Raphael’s skin, and he’d heard that they represented love. Besides, diamonds meant little to him, and promises of forever from humans were laughable. And so, at the crescendo of the night (so to speak), Gabriel’s ring began to burn (metaphorically) in his pocket. He grabbed it gently, awkwardly dancing with words with Raphael as they both tried to break in and propose.

Raphael broke, knowing that Gabriel usually just had some stupid thought nagging him that needed to be let free before he could move to a new topic, and the proposal was a topic he wanted Gabriel’s full brain on. 

And then Gabriel got on one knee, offering the stone to Raphael as he looked up at him with those bright blue eyes that made Raphael’s knees weak. “Raphael,” Gabriel began. “We’ve known each other for a very long time. And I know that we haven’t been properly together very long, but… I do care about you, and I know that you’re the right angel for me. So I would like to finalize this relationship in the eyes of God… if that’s okay… with you. Um…” He blushed, growing awkward.

Raphael stopped his stammering, taking a deep breath. “Put the ring on my finger, Gabriel, I want to do this…” He was grinning ear to ear. He had been so worried that he wouldn’t be proposed to. And he knew that wasn’t important, but he was the archangel of love and he’d have loved to have it… and he got it. And he would remember it. He was more than thankful. Once the band was secure on his ring finger, Raphael smiled, urging him up. “Stand, I have something for you,” Raphael said softly.

Gabriel blinked, doing so with a furrowed brow. “What was it, Raphael?”

Raphael grinned, taking a knee and pulling out his own ring. It was a band as well, but instead, it had a stripe of lapis lazuli and sapphire. As nice as rose quartz was, he did love the blues in Gabriel’s eyes and would love to see them complimented. He gently slipped it on Gabriel’s finger, kissing it. “I was going to propose as well… I’m glad you beat me to it,” He said softly.

Gabriel watched, his heart soaring in the clouds. He gently picked up Raphael after the display, kissing him with such excitement and warmth that only existed when he was with Raphael. He nuzzled him afterward. “I’m glad I could propose to you too… I’m sure your proposal would have been better than mine, but...  I wanted to propose. I was just worried.” He said softly, kissing his cheek.

“Ah, well… you did, and I’ll remember it. I’m so happy you did, Gabriel… and this ring is really gorgeous… thank you.”

“Well,  my ring is very nice as well… so I should thank you for everything. You’ve been amazing to be with, and I feel like you’ve made me much more holy.”

Raphael softened, cupping his face. “I can’t wait to be married to you,” he chuckled.

Gabriel’s cheeks burned under his fingers and his eyes sparkled. “I’m excited too… but I’m just excited to know that you’ll be by my side for eternity.” He said softly.

“For eternity… we really are in heaven,” Raphael replied, kissing his cheek.

Gabriel nodded once, a simple, pleased smile on his face.


	79. Aziraphale/Crowley: Relieved to be fond

“I just love humans,” Aziraphale said softly, so happy that he could enjoy watching them at the Ritz together with Crowley. It was made even better by the fact that Crowley had enticed him into indulging in their various pleasantries, and had largely helped him fall for the choice-makers of this world.

_ Why do you love them and not me? _ The thought pierced through Crowley’s mind, and he had to stop himself from cringing at his own jealousy. He could be such a brat sometimes. “Yes… they are nice. Just good enough, and yet just evil enough. Just human enough. They make such wonderful things… I wish that I could do what they do sometimes.”

Aziraphale looked over, gently squeezing Crowley’s wrist with affection. “I think that you invent just enough, dear boy. Any more and you’ll tip the balances. You’re very ambitious… and besides, I’m used to you. As much as I love humans, and I’ve grown to love them with you… I have grown very attached to the you that you are. If you changed and weren’t yourself I know that it would be a difficult adjustment for me. Dare I say, Crowley, I’ve grown very fond of you as well,” The last sentence was soft, and though Aziraphale’s gaze was also soft and kind, it was still that piercing, gut flipping, chilling blue that shocked and captured Crowley helplessly.

Crowley tried not to let his corporation warm at the remark, though it was quickly failing. “Aziraphale… I’ve grown… to enjoy you a lot too,” Crowley said it all pretty awkwardly. He would have liked to look competent (as always), but something about Aziraphale saying those words and soothing his mind and those blue eyes… his brain was frazzled. 

Aziraphale smiled at that. “Well… that’s good to hear, my dear boy,” he said, his voice radiating a boundless love. For a moment, a shimmering halo appeared above his head.

Crowley couldn’t help but grin in return. He was fond of him… perhaps more, even. Aziraphale… He was so relieved. “You’re telling me,” he said, letting his secret affections stay secret for another day. He had what love he needed anyway.


	80. Aziraphale/Crowley: Tired

Over centuries of abusing his corporation into a forced slumber, Crowley had inherited a sleepiness that occasionally would fog his mind when he would stay awake too long. During those times, he was inebriated in a very human sort of way, a way that even alcohol couldn’t compare to. And Aziraphale  _ loved  _ it. After all, when Crowley would sleepily blink or rub at his eyes or ask stupid questions portraying how out of it he was, well, Aziraphale’s heart would warm, knowing that it was a real treat to get to see his dear boy so vulnerable.

Not to mention, when he was in this state, Crowley would take whatever help Aziraphale had, whether that be picking him up and carrying him to bed, or even using him as a mattress of sorts. He always seemed very calmed by Aziraphale’s squishiness sustaining him, and the way that he inhaled through his nose only made him figure that he loved his cologne. It was nice to know that. Nicer than appreciating a cologne ought to feel. And Aziraphale would tuck a tress of hair behind his ear if it were long enough, or gently fix a piece of his clothing, or hold him tight against him, letting love radiate as he indulged in a Crowley who was resting knowing that he was safe with the former guard of Eden.

It was nice for both of them when Crowley was tired enough to indulge like that. Crowley was just antsy to get to the day where he had the courage to ask for it when he wasn’t delirious.

Aziraphale didn’t know it, but he was looking forward to that day too.


	81. Hastur/Ligur: Heaven in Hell

_ "I have a secret,”  _ Hastur said as he walked into Ligur’s bedroom without a knock, his eyes lighting up with the genius of his plan. He closed the door behind him, trying not to smirk like the Grinch. He was failing.

_ "Oh?" _ Ligur looked over. Had anyone else invited themselves into his room unannounced and without warning, they would have been skinned for their trouble. But Ligur’s room was Hastur’s home too, and Hastur’s room was Ligur’s as well. They just kinda flip-flopped between what they wanted out of the room.

_ "Come here, I want you to keep it,”  _ Hastur said, feeling higher than even Heaven could reach.

Ligur sighed, obliging Hastur’s dorkiness as he went over. “Okay?” He looked up at him, cocking a brow.

Hastur grinned, gently cupping his face and kissing him, one of his thumbs gently brushing over Ligur’s cheek with affection and protectiveness. They got sucked into the kiss for a while, one of them starting to pull away, and the other would push and they’d play almost a tagging game to decide whether or not they wanted it to end. Largely, both of them didn’t.

But when their lips finally parted again and Ligur’s soft yellow and peach eyes gazed into Hastur’s, the sentiment of the kiss lingered. 

“How was that a secret?” Asked Ligur finally, scrunching up his nose a little bit.

Hastur grinned, leaning down to whisper in his ear. “Because that’s how you make me feel whenever I’m with you,” He said, pressing a kiss there before picking him up. He gave him a short kiss again, utterly warmed by Ligur letting him seize him and hold him and care for him and kiss him. This was where Hell was perfect for Hastur.

Ligur blushed as Hastur hoisted him up. “I see,” he muttered softly, holding on tightly. “We’re getting too soft.” He whispered.

“Not here… not in secret,” Hastur assured, gently giving Ligur’s chameleon, Lurky, a little smooch on the head. “We’re safe so long as it’s in secret… We’re safe.” 

Ligur sighed, hugging Hastur a little bit tighter. “Our safety is in your hands then…”

“I must be the only demon you trust,” joked Hastur.

“You are,” Ligur said seriously, meeting his eyes. “Don’t make me regret that.” He threatened.

But the notion was ridiculous, because Hastur trusted Ligur too, and Hastur loved Ligur too much to ever let anything jeopardize his safety. After all, if there is a shred of Heaven in Hell, it is something to guard with everything available.

And besides, it was nice being Ligur’s guard dog anyway.

 


	82. Mafia!AU: Michael and Gabriel: Too much

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still ironing out the kinks of this AU, but @onlytrashdrawshere on Insta has been into it- in this, Gabriel was on the streets for a few years and got adopted by Michael at 8. The state lost his records so they didn't know he was out and about getting screwed up. Michael is his "big brother" now and the crime family has also started to adopt him. Gabriel's got issues aplenty from the whole dealio, but he's trying, and he's pure.   
> Art for Crowley/Aziraphale in this Mafia!AU: https://www.instagram.com/p/B0Hiqq6hdxI/

_ "I'm scared," _ Gabriel cried, those gorgeous, shining blue eyes glistening with tears that Michael wished he had seen less of. He was so innocent, even after everything he’d been through, he was innocent. Too innocent to be hiding in a panic room while Michael held him tight, gunfire cocooning the house and entrapping them inside. Sometimes Michael wished he’d never been a mafia boss. But then he might not have been able to care for Gabriel at all.

_ "It's okay, I've got you,”  _ Michael said softly, petting his hair and trying to cover those tiny little ears that had heard too much of the world’s darkness already. “Nothing can happen to us in here. I’m keeping us safe. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“But what if you get hurt?!” Gabriel began to sob and Michael hated that he had to shush him, and fast.

He wiped at those sweet tears, kissing his forehead as he shushed him and rocked him. “I won’t let myself get hurt. You need your big brother… I know… I know… It’s all okay… Just rest, okay? When you wake up this will all be over.”

Gabriel sniffled, hugging him tighter. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t, Gabriel, I promise,” He pet his hair, nuzzling him. “I love you very much… just sleep for a while, alright? Just sleep,” He rocked him, kissing his forehead. “I love you… Sleep.”

It took a while for it to work, Gabriel being worked up from everything and the gunfire, but eventually, he slept. He had heard it all before anyway… he had heard too much. So when he slept, he slept peacefully, being entirely supported by Michael as he trusted the other to make it all better again.

It had happened before.

 


	83. Brian/Wensleydale: The better end of the stick

_ "Let me borrow your coat,”  _ Wensleydale implored, hugging the thin fabric of the green, mucky hoodie against him as a pointless attempt for warmth.

_ "You're already wearing one of my coats,"  _ Brian almost scolded, looking over to Wensleydale. “You’re really still cold?” He asked.

Wensleydale nodded. “As nutritious as mum’s lunches are, I can’t seem to gain enough weight to not be,” he explained, hugging the fabric against him tighter.

Suddenly, Brian’s jacket was draped over his shoulders, and the lanky young boy pulled Wensleydale in. 

“You can borrow my coat,” Brian began, “But I’m staying close for warmth.”

Wensleydale grinned, feeling warmer already, and he knew that Brian’s body heat would help as well. “Of course, thank you so much, Brian.”

“Yeah, no problem, ‘course,” Brian said, trying to act gruff as his mind tantalized him with how near they were. 

Somehow, two sweaters down, Brian felt he had gotten the better end of the stick.

 


	84. Wensleydale/The Them and Implied Aziraphale/Crowley: "Oh fuck, I love them."

It had been about an hour that Wensleydale had been venting to Aziraphale over the telephone line. Progressively, he had gotten more and more passionate as he spoke of his friends just shouldn’t have the right to be so dear. He spoke of how frustrating it was to lag behind, and how he was so confused about his own feelings and about who he was and his sexuality. 

Aziraphale finally spoke up at a lull in the conversation. “Well, it seems as though to me that you do enjoy them quite a bit. And that’s a big part of any relationship.”

Wensleydale paused, thinking about it. “And… what else is important?”

“Well, there’s nice conversations, nice silences, caring about each other, compatibility, chemistry, and… I think there’s a part about it all feeling natural and right when you’re with that person.”

Wensleydale paled, looking at the wall. He… for all of the Them.  _ "Oh fuck, I'm in love with them,” _ he said softly.

“Don’t swear, dear boy, but…  _ what?” _

“I am, uncle Az, I love Them.”

“Well then that’s good!”

“But what if it’s not!’

“It’ll all be okay, Wensleydale, in my experience people take too long to figure out the other likes them and stuff.”

Wensleydale didn’t comment that that was because Aziraphale and Crowley were doomed to be the slowest couple in the world.


	85. Aziraphale/Crowley: Not worth the risk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale's cherubim brain is essentially dumb-soldier brain, and it's explained in the post. Crowley gets dumb snake brain/turns to a snake in winter and Az takes care of him in my little headcanon world. Antics and feelings ensue. There will probably be a part 2 :)

Crowley glanced back as Aziraphale came into his room… or rather, who Crowley would have  _ recognized  _ as Aziraphale. It was supposed to be one last hurrah, one last soothing, affectionate time to put his cherub’s mind at peace. Normally, this wasn’t necessary, either, but then Shadwell had to come along and take Crowley, and since Crowley had sought the witchfinder out in return, the soldier in him was in shambles. Aziraphale hoped that one last cherub-snake cuddle session would sate his dumb cherub brain into behaving. He should have kept watch, though.

Instead, his cherub brain walked in on Crowley’s lithe, tanned form pulling on a white linen button-down. As this was the cherub who’d chased Crowley’s snake form through Eden with all the love in his heart (even though it had terrified that poor snake), he immediately came up behind him, hugging him securely.

Crowley’s cheeks warmed, and his stomach flipped and twisted as he beat back six millennia's worth of hopeful feelings. This wasn’t usually what happened after winter. “Aziraphale?” He asked, confused and hoping that would prompt some kind of answer.

“In a sense,” The cherub said, his voice deep and almost disembodied. “I guarded the gates of Eden. I pursued you. When Aziraphale was demoted I became secondary, similar to your snake form. I am only able to take precedence when Aziraphale gives it, or when I am stronger.” The form hugged Crowley tighter. “I am going to miss you.”

Crowley took a deep breath, loving the feeling of those muscular arms surrounding him. “Miss me?” He asked, closing his eyes for a moment. Aziraphale made him weak.

“When you go back to Shadwell… When Aziraphale restrains me from holding you.”

“Aziraphale doesn’t often hold me like this,” Crowley said shyly.

“Aziraphale thinks and overthinks; I do things. I hug you, and he’d just kick himself.” The cherub took in Crowley’s smell, his heart warmed by the demon.

“I see,” Crowley muttered, his cheeks hot. “Have you ever wanted to do more than that?”

“Of course,” The cherub nuzzled him, kissing at his cheek a few times. “I love you, Crowley.”

Crowley’s heart raced. “A-Aziraphale,” He breathed, leaning against him.

The cherub picked him up, sitting with him on the bed, Crowley seated comfortably in his lap, holding him against him safely. It was only now that Crowley saw Aziraphale’s eyes glowed a brilliant white, the blue gone in their brilliance.

It was kind of scary. But it was as close to Aziraphale’s love as Crowley could get, so he let himself be held like he was tiny and fragile and important. He wished he was.

“Aziraphale, you love me?” Crowley asked, his voice a whisper as he looked at the cherub reverently.

The cherub stared into Crowley’s eyes, petting his hair. “I do… and my other self, well, that’s for him to tell, but he cares- he cares about you a lot. He’s just scared. We don’t want to fall. He won’t let me, Crowley, I’m sorry.”

Crowley looked at him, his heart tense as he attempted to dam up a flood of emotions. He loved him… “It’s… it’s not your fault… Tell me, is it ever gonna happen?”

“What do you mean?” The cherub asked, his stomach flipping at how solemn Crowley sounded.

“Will the reward ever outweigh the risks? Because I… I’m at the end of my patience. If this isn’t going to work, if I’m never going to be worth trying, then I… I need to know that it’s all been a waste of time.”

The cherub watched him, utterly silence, his body tensed as though for war. “Crowley… I am not Aziraphale. I cannot make that decision. I do not know.  _ I _ love you. I’m trying- I am, but… there is a lot of fear.”

Crowley looked at him, trying not to show the disappointment that washed up and drowned him in the realistically pessimistic thought that said if he had restrained for six thousand years- and if he gave a call of action to the part of him most inclined to action and it failed, well, then it was over. It was a waste. “I know this might be wrong, but, Aziraphale? Can you kiss me?”

The cherub sucked in a breath, looking at Crowley with sheer desire. In a moment he had cupped his face, holding him as he kissed him. It was clunky and awkward and it was the first kiss, but to Crowley, it was some sort of closure.

They pulled away after a minute, their breathing heavy with intensity. Crowley looked into his eyes. “Aziraphale, I don’t want you to worry about me anymore. I don’t want you to struggle with thinking whether or not you should try. I-I’m not worth the risk. I knew there was a reason why I had been the only one trying. And that’s okay- it’s more than okay-” Crowley got up. “I just need to sort this out.”

“Wait- wait,” the cherub grabbed Crowley’s wrist gently, but firmly. “Please, tell him, he needs to know- I’ll switch back-” As Crowley watched, the bright white glowing switched into Aziraphale’s blue back and forth a few times before Aziraphale blinked his beautiful, breathtaking blue eyes that Crowley had grown to love. 

He hated that he would have to get over even his eyes. Crowley looked at Aziraphale as he let go of his arm, his brow furrowing in confusion at his own action. 

“You were supposed to be a snake,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley gave a half-smile, shrugging. He already missed Aziraphale’s touch. “I was supposed to be a lot of things. Listen, angel… Thank you for watching me this winter. And… thank you for watching me for all of them. Thank you for letting me speak to your cherub form, and… thank you for all the companionship.” He pulled out his glasses, putting them on so that he could hide the tears starting to well up in his eyes. “I wanted you to know, you don’t have to worry about me anymore. I understand. I just… I’m gonna need some time. And then I’ll come back. And we can be proper friends.”

“You-you need time?” Aziraphale repeated, utterly confused as he was snapped into some sort of grim reality with a torn-up Crowley. “When are you coming back, dear boy?” He asked.

Crowley almost flinched at the nickname. How could something so loving feel like such an act of aggression? “I don’t know, Aziraphale. I need to sort some things out. And I think you do too… but that’s okay. I’ll come back and we’ll be friends again and we can do it right. And by that time you can show me all the smart new things you’ve learned and I can… I can show you some new human stuff. I just… I need some time. Thank you.” He leaned down, taking a chance and kissing his forehead. He grabbed his coat, leaving as he pulled it around him.

Aziraphale stared in utter shock, the kiss being an unexpected delight. But as hours turned to days and so on and so forth, as it all came to a culmination of years and the quite aggressive probing of his cherubim side proved that Crowley’s last words to him were an ending, Aziraphale found the kiss to be a poison infecting his mind.  To get over him… He collected dust and cobwebs, his mind thinking everything over and- damn it, he could risk it all on an arrangement! How was Crowley any worse? 

The next time he saw him, the next time he heard a single thing from Crowley- he would explain he was ready. Tell him he was sorry. He would show him that he was wanted and needed and fuck! Aziraphale really fell apart without him!

He tended to St. Jame’s park, and he waited for Crowley, trying to think up the exact way he would make it all up to him. Because he knew he would have to win back a man who just had taught himself to get over him.

He felt like a bad angel. Raphael was screaming from heaven.

But three years later, on a Monday, Aziraphale had gotten a call.


	86. Aziraphale/Crowley: A demon worth earning (Sequel to previous chapter)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a sequel, read the previous chapter for clarity, please!

Crowley called Aziraphale. Three years had passed and through rigorous discipline he’d convinced himself he was ready to see Aziraphale again, free of false expectations. He just would have to be stern and diligent.

Not a second passed before Aziraphale picked up. “Crowley?” He asked hopefully, his heart yearning for even his best friend’s voice.

The demon gave a dismal smile. Aziraphale sounded so happy. “Yeah, I’m back. Thought we could get lunch in a few?” 

Aziraphale beamed. “Yes, of course. I’ll make us a picnic! We can go to St. Jame’s!” He wanted to show Crowley he upkept it, even if most of the upkeeping involved miracles. The park was important; the ducks were their babies.

“Oooh, St. Jame’s? Picnic? Uh… okay, that sounds nice.” Even so, his voice was wary. To him, St. James was a metaphor for their relationship- or a symbol. And picnics took effort… effort he knew Aziraphale would spend cooking him the perfect meal. He was already being tested.

“Of course, are you dropping by, then?” Aziraphale asked. He had even missed the Bentley.

“I’ll drop by at noon,” Crowley said almost curtly, hanging up.

Aziraphale held the receiver in thrilled shock for a few minutes. The day had finally come! When he rose, he moved in jerky, scattered, overwhelmed movements. He used a miracle on ingredients, not wanting to waste another second. He prepared what he believed was Crowley’s favorite meal, though oftentimes in the past Crowley had just gone along with Aziraphale’s preferences so that the angel could steal from his plate. His  _ dear _ boy.

When the meal was complete, Aziraphale tucked it all into a cute black and blue picnic basket… it was a compromise of sorts.

He put no thought into his dusty, cobweb-ridden appearance, busied with making the picnic perfect. He might have even forgotten about it, but when Crowley rang his doorbell and Aziraphale found his regularly quite dapper gentleman in a red Hanes t-shirt, black sweatpants with a sporty white stripe, and neon green jelly sandals, he realized appearances had been neglected on both ends. Crowley usually loved to be fashionable. It was concerning.

“Crowley,” he greeted with a nervous smile. “It’s been too long- er, it’s always been too long, heh… I missed you.”

Crowley tried not to let his heart take that any further. “‘S that the basket?” He motioned, going to grab it.

Aziraphale wouldn’t have let him if he’d had the balls to deny him. He didn’t. Crowley took the basket, getting in the Bentley. 

“It’s freshly made,” Aziraphale said as he got in the passenger’s side.

“It smells good. You must’ve done well,” Crowley replied, the ambivalence in his voice contrasting the sentiment.

Aziraphale shrunk into himself. “So… you must have done a lot... Seen the world all over?” He gave an awkward smile.

“It wasn’t very exciting,” Crowley said.

“Who took care of you in the winter?” Aziraphale asked, definitely not jealous.

“I did. Locked myself in a terrarium. I’m a demon.” Crowley watched the road. He didn’t  _ need _ Aziraphale. He could do without him… alone… very alone.

“Yes, of course,” Aziraphale said sadly, knowing his poor snake form wouldn’t have understood.

“So… Did you learn anything new?” Crowley asked, glancing over.

“Yes,” Aziraphale said. “But that is something I’ll have to tell you over lunch.” 

Crowley didn’t know if he liked the sound of that, but he let it slide, worrying in silence.

It wasn’t long before they arrived at the park. As much as Aziraphale missed Crowley and the Bentley, he hated going 90 in central London. But he refused to criticize Crowley on it- not now.

Aziraphale got out, going to grab the basket of food, but Crowley seized it just before Aziraphale could be a gentleman. He then trekked out far ahead, abandoning their usual synched steps in favor of setting it up himself. The Bentley was locked with a snap.

Aziraphale tried to protect the warmth in his heart against Crowley’s chilling contempt. Now it was his responsibility to try. He had to prove himself. He joined Crowley on the blue tartan picnic blanket (it was all he had).

Crowley looked over. “Thanks for the meal.”

“Hm? Yes, of course,” Aziraphale dismissed the sentiment, deeming it too small to be worthy. He took the initiative to unpack it and serve them.

Crowley looked away, not wanting to think about Aziraphale tending to him. A plate was gently set in his lap as he surveyed and found that St. Jame’s park, his secret metaphor for their relationship, was thriving and blooming and it poisoned his heart just a little bit to realize that his romantic fantasies were such a silly farce. A demon in love, what was he thinking? Pathetic.

Aziraphale looked to Crowley, the years making hidden pain obvious. His dear boy… “Crowley,” he said softly.

“Yeah?” The demon reluctantly looked over to the man of his torment.

“I really did miss you… so much.” He began to eat, wanting to speak over a meal. As he took his first bite he remembered why he’d let Crowley tempt him into meals over stillness. But a meal with Crowley always tasted better than a meal eaten alone.

Crowley gulped as some feelings arose again. He looked down, beginning to eat. He took a few bites as he beat his feelings down. “I missed you too, Aziraphale,” He said finally.

“Crowley, when you left, I didn’t know what exactly was happening,” Aziraphale confessed, his voice labored with regret. “ANd… I had talked with my cherubim self, and Crowley, I’m so sorry. I’ve thought a lot about it, and I should have reciprocated. I mean- we had the arrangement, and you are worth so much more than that to me. I really messed up- I got it wrong, and when I finally found out it was too late and you had gone to get rid of me. I’m sorry, Crowley.”

Crowley sniffled, his heart pounding as he tried to bite down tears. “What are you trying to say?” His voice wobbled and wavered with hope that he believed hadn’t learned its lesson. 

“Crowley, I… I’m ready. I want to give it- no, I want to give  _ us _ a chance. I know you must be really hurt, and I truly didn’t mean to, but… well… I know i’m asking a lot, Crowley, but I want to be allowed to prove to you I’m ready, that this can end happily. That you’re worth it, Crowley.” Aziraphale spoke clearly, emotion manipulating his words into tugging at one’s ears.

Crowley slowly looked up, meeting his eyes. He took off his sunglasses, allowing his watery windows to the soul to be revealed to the world- and to Aziraphale. “Why?” He asked. The words Aziraphale spoke were beautiful and nice and the things he had dreamed of, but he had just trained himself to poison his dream clouds with cyanide gas. He couldn’t trust him.

Aziraphale sucked in a deep breath, Crowley’s tears spurring his own eyes to flood. “Because, Crowley, you… I-I love you. I love you and I took you for granted. And these last three years… They’ve torn me to shreds I’ve missed you so much.”

“This isn’t fair,” Crowley said, his voice wavering and pinching with each crest and dip in the waves of hurt he felt. “I missed you- I went to get over you after so long- three years and I though ti”d done it and I haven’t and I come back and find out all those fucking emotions I let torture me- I thought they were  _ right! _ And I cried all those tears for nothing?” Tears streamed down his face as he yelled his utter outrage out.

Aziraphale took a deep breath. “I… I’m so sorry, Crowley, I didn’t understand what you meant, and I didn’t know. Please, I know it’s not fair, but let me please make it up to you. Let me start doing the things- trying. I want to win you back, please, even if it takes six-thousand more years. You’re… You’re worth it.”

Crowley’s hands shook. He looked down, finding himself crying over Aziraphale again. But he wanted those last three years to be a waste, and deep down he knew that he wouldn’t ever get over his angel. His angel…

Aziraphale tensed, hating to see Crowley cry. “My dear boy, I don’t know if this is too soon-”

“Do it,” Crowley said, needing whatever affection Aziraphale would lead with.

Within seconds he was wrapped in those strong, soft, warm arms that he’d last felt the day he left. He didn’t want Aziraphale to  _ let _ him leave again. 

Aziraphale held Crowley, nuzzling at his neck. “I’m so sorry, Crowley,” he whispered.

Crowley nodded, crying silently. “I want you to start doing these things- unprompted- so I can know you want to- you love me. I love when you hold me, please, Aziraphale.”

An aura of love enveloped the park, Aziraphale radiating as much comfort and warmth as he could for Crowley. He felt it all so deeply. He rubbed Crowley’s back. “I…. I will. It’s my turn. I promise I’ll put in the effort. You’re worth it, I want you- I love you.”

Crowley gripped onto him tightly, nodding as his heart did flips. “Are you sure about this? You didn’t… six thousand years.”

“Crowley, I learned I need you. I love you. I want this… It’s perfect, time with you- Food tastes better, I laugh, I fall in love with humans and I fall further in love with you. I needed the kick in the arse- that you can’t wait forever not knowing. I just- I didn’t know I couldn’t either, but I do now. I’m sure of this. I love you. Let me prove it, let me earn you.” Aziraphale spoke as passionately and genuinely as he could.

Crowley got lost in his eyes, his heart thudding out a rhythm of love. He had wanted to hear some of these things for so long. “You want to?” He asked nervously.

“I need to make it up to you, and I want when you give me a chance- or affection- I want it to be an equal exchange- for you to be sought out and feel loved. Please, Crowley, can I have that opportunity?”

Crowley moved, going to take Aziraphale’s hand, but the angel beat him to holding both once he saw the motion. He held them, giving them a squeeze. “I can’t do the bullshit anymore, Aziraphale. I won’t let myself be played for a sucker.”

“I-I don’t want you to be… just tell me if anything is wrong. Just to make sure I know. Because I think at times I can be oblivious. Please.” 

Crowley nodded reluctantly. 

“Then…. You’re willing to try?” Aziraphale looked like he was on Cloud Nine.

Crowley held his eager gaze. Was today really the day? Six thousand years he waited for this? And he was in sweatpants? God was a bastard. “Yes, Aziraphale… I… I still want you. I love you.” He murmured the last bit, hating that now sweatpants were his first date attire. He was going to be so handsome- he would have been if he knew.

Aziraphale beamed, kissing his cheek. He didn’t care about things like sweatpants- especially not when he’d nearly lost  _ his _ dear boy. “Thank you,” he said warmly.

They wouldn’t kiss until Aziraphale believed he’d earned it, but after so long without affection, Crowley was content with even just the cuddling and the cheek kisses… For now.

 


	87. Gabriel/Raphael: Mental Asylum AU! The first meeting

Raphael stared at the paperwork the new admittee had insisted he fill out himself (they had a trusted person close to the man fill it out properly with their best guesses, but Raphael deemed it quality information to see how he would diagnose himself). Under the patient name, in a clean script with black ink were the words: Archangel Gabriel. Most of the occupations listings had something to do with doing the paperwork for god, and currently, he was refusing food and water due to some misconception about a celestial body, whatever that meant.

Raphael bit back a groan. Another religious nutcase. He hated these. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand them, or what they were talking about (at least he did for the Christian ones), it was just that he was an ex-Catholic gay boy who was really tired of the religion being beaten into his brain. But he’d never seen anyone go so far. Right now, members of his staff were doing all they could to sedate him. It was going to be an interesting first meeting.

He put a rough idea of a treatment plan together- scratch that, ideas. It really depended on how cooperative Gabriel would be. Currently, he wasn’t holding out much hope, but maybe he could appeal to the fact that he was an angel. He would have to meet him and see. 

He pulled on the white lab coat, grabbing his clipboard. He let his shoes tap an impending melody onto the tile as he headed to the newest admission’s room. He opened the door, and the man snapped his face to look at him immediately. If he weren’t a patient, he would be quite handsome. Breathtaking, perhaps.

He was a patient, though. Raphael walked in. “Hello, Gabriel, was it? An angel?” He asked, smiling as he offered his hand.

Gabriel shook it gently. Normally he would be firm, but the red-haired doctor in front of him seemed delicate and soft and beautiful. He didn’t want to hurt him. “An archangel,” he corrected. “What’s your name?”

“Doctor Hayes- Raphael Hayes.”

“Your name is Raphael?” Gabriel asked, transfixed with hope for a minute. Pieces were clicking together in his mind.

Raphael grew a bit awkward, chuckling. “Well, yes, but I just go by Dr. Hayes,” he began.

“You must be an archangel too,” Gabriel beamed. “I was so worried.”

“Oh, Gabriel, hah, uhm,” Raphael looked around. Maybe he could use this. “If you speak like that you’ll blow our cover. Uhm, no, but, you can’t be pulling out your IVs and not eating or drinking.”

Gabriel shrugged that information off. “So you are?”

Raphael felt like an idiot. “I’m… I don’t think so,” he said, winking. He was digging such a stupid grave, what was he doing? “Why don’t I get your vitals?” He asked.

Gabriel cooperated for the rest of the visit but continued to badger Raphael eagerly. He didn’t think any other archangels were down here with him.


	88. Aziraphale/Crowley: "You don't have to make that decision."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is a human in this AU  
> Prompt (from Instagram): "You are a billionaire with an incredible spouse. Today, you found out that they've been attempting to kill you for some time now in order to inherit your fortune. You love them so much, though, that you don't have the heart to tell them that you're an immortal."  
> "Spoiler", the prompt was more of an inspiration.

Crowley stared at the poison, his heart clenching. He hadn’t expected to fall in love with the billionaire who’d dropped him a wink and a number as he was serving. He thought that it would be secret, silent, easy. He made sure that they were never known to be together, eliminating himself from a suspect list. He’d said that he was not out.

It was just... A billion pounds would cure his brother in America. He didn’t have much time. He… He thought this would be easy. He didn’t think he’d grow attached.

Aziraphale watched from the bedroom door. He’d looked into the man’s eyes and seen badness, but he’d seen good intentions behind it all. He’d seen someone who struggled to do the right thing. He’d seen someone in pain. He gently walked up behind him, taking the poison as he held him. 

“You don’t have to make that decision, Crowley,” Aziraphale said softly. “I’m immortal. I won’t die.”

Crowley jumped, his heart starting to race as he stared ahead in disbelief and shock. “What do you-”

Aziraphale slipped the poison in his pant pocket, before picking up Crowley and depositing him on the bed. “Why did you want to kill me?”

“You’re- you’re a nice man, I- just- there’s no time- what do you mean, immortal?” Crowley’s mind was scattered with confusion.

Aziraphale sighed, giving a small smile. “It means that I will not die by those means…. But I think we have more pressing things to talk about if there is no time.”

“He’s gonna run out of medication; he can’t get care-” Crowley wrung his hands, all of the emotions and trauma and guilt surging through him.

Aziraphale pet his head. “Who is he?” He asked gently

“My brother. He’s in America. He’s… He doesn’t deserve this. I can’t even get him a plane ticket to come back. That’s why I’ve been trying to work so hard.”

“Oh, love,” Aziraphale said softly. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because you would have kicked me out and I would have lost the chance, Aziraphale! Any other guy would call me out rightfully for being some kind of gold digger-”

“But you are saving a life. I don’t want your brother to die. I don’t care to spend some money to ensure he’s safe. I don’t care to spend some money to ensure that you’re safe- and okay, and happy…” Aziraphale hugged him. “I know that we haven’t known each other that long. I understand you didn’t feel you had an option, or that I would care. But I care about you. Even already. So… please let me help you. I want you to be able to do some good instead of panicking trying to save him.”

Crowley looked down. “You want to help?” He asked, his stomach dropping. He nearly poisoned someone who would have helped?

Aziraphale nodded. “Please,” He urged, his voice serious.

Crowley took a deep breath. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice light and airy, as though he weren’t there.

“I know. No one has to know, though. We’re gonna get through this, and it’s all okay. Nothing bad happened, no one’s hurt. Your brother is going to be fine, now. And I found out I could help somehow. So it’s okay, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, wanting to erase Crowley’s guilt. He still needed to process his own feelings on the attempted murder, but he wanted to do it alone, and he wanted to pretend that he didn’t feel betrayed. He wanted to pretend that his first emotions were helpful and pure. 

Crowley teared up. “You should hate me,” he said, his breathing quickening.

“I don’t, though. I’m-I’m immortal. I don’t fear death the same way; it doesn’t have the same weight. I-I don’t want for this to-” poison, “ _ kill _ ,” Oh that was no better Aziraphale! “The relationship, though. Because… Listen I’ve been around a long time, Crowley, and I see so much in you. This- I don’t want this to end it all. Your desperation over your brother- that… I know that’s hard. People don’t think the same.”

“I would have done it,” Crowley began to sob.

Aziraphale held him, rubbing his back. “For your brother… It’s different… Let’s- okay, breathe, dear boy, please breathe for me- slowly, properly, good, dear boy, alright… Once you calm down, we’ll send the money to him. And then… if you would like I would like to stay with you tonight- to make sure you’re okay. And if we talk about it, we talk about it, and if we watch some of your movies- James Bond or whatever the like you choose, well, we do that, how does that sound?”

“Why would you do this for me?” Crowley asked, looking at Az with tear-blurred vision.

“Because… I’m an angel who cares much too much for humans… and I’m an angel who cares much too much for you.” 

Aziraphale held Crowley, petting his hair and holding him until he felt he was stable enough to handle the task of teaching Aziraphale to send the money. Aziraphale ordered them some food, and they watched James Bond, the angel helping to force the man in crisis to eat.

Humans did the strangest things, especially when they were desperate, but Aziraphale found that these strangest things were occasionally the best things ever done. He thought Crowley would be one of the best humans the world had seen, especially if no one else found out.


	89. Gabriel/Raphael: Love simulator

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired off of art my bf did : https://www.instagram.com/p/B1ZwByvll-8/

Gabriel stared at the screen of his phone, selecting another option in the story as he watched Raphael’s character. It was nice… predictable. He felt like he was learning about him, and he got to bask in the other’s adorable reactions safely. He could listen to his words and take in his beautiful drawn form. He got to watch as the relationship gauge, a bandaged heart, slowly was unwound. It just… the time he wasted in it was magical, but Michael had brought up that he wasn’t visiting Raphael as much.

He just didn’t want to mess it up. He was hoping that if he selected enough options, basked in this fake affection enough, that maybe he’d grow confident in his relationship skills enough to pursue Raphael the right way- a better way. Raphael deserved the best.

Raphael read Gabriel’s diary file, his eyes scanning the pages. He was such an idiot, but he was an idiot he loved and missed. He hated that Gabriel thought he was unpredictable enough to choose him over a game. He hated that he himself had indulged in said game in Gabriel’s absence. But God must have a plan, and this must be in it.

He just needed to convince Gabriel to come back and spend time with him instead. He thought he had found out how to encourage him into taking these risks. He would have to try a different way. He would have to start seeing him. Oh, Gabriel...


	90. Aziraphale/Crowley: Dresses

There was something about the sweet and flowiness that made dresses seem so appealing. Crowley loved when they were in men’s fashion, but when they were out and he wanted his fix of attention via stares, Crowley would crossdress, feeling powerful.

Aziraphale watched from the sidelines, happy to see his dear boy show off.


	91. Adam/Wensleydale, Warlock/Wensleydale: Experimentation (Part One?)

Wensleydale gasped as he was pinned down, Warlock above him, kissing him as his mind went numb. He shivered as his face was cupped, his heart skipping a beat. 

Adam walked in, turning to see one of his best friends kissing that- well… imposter wasn’t a nice word, but it was fitting.

Wensleydale jumped, moving to pull away, but Warlock kissed him just a bit longer before Wensleydale pushed him off, his cheeks flushed. “A-Adam, can we talk?” It was only now that his heart began to race. “Can you close the door?” he asked, wiping at his mouth.

Adam did so without a movement, starting at the scene. “We can always talk, Wensleydale,” Adam assured, trying to be inviting and hide the anger in his gut.

“Okay, well, I’m sorry you had to see that. My mother usually knocks. I just- please don’t tell anyone.” His cheeks were burning. “I wanted to try some experimenting- that was all it was.”

“You were experimenting?” Adam asked.

“Just…” He rubbed at his arms. “To see if I liked guys.” He muttered, looking down.

“I see... “ Adam looked at Warlock with disdain. He hardly felt he should represent ‘guys’ to Wensleydale. He would much rather represent his gender himself. “Well I won’t tell anyone. Don’t worry about that.”

“Oh, thank you, Adam,” Wensleydale said, getting up and going to hug him. 

Adam held him tight. “Would you meet me tomorrow? Down in hogback lane? I want to show you somewhere.”

Wensleydale pulled away just enough to look in Adam’s eyes, his brow furrowing. “Okay. I’ll meet you there after school?”

“Perfect. I’ll see you then,” Adam gave a smile.

And then he left the two, doing his best to replace thoughts of Warlock with thoughts of how he could convince Wensleydale to start experimenting with him instead. 


	92. Aziraphale/Crowley: Rosy pinks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a sequel to the previous chapter, and more updates, I just haven't typed them up. They are written though!

Crowley thought that he loved reds. They were passionate, fiery, cool, and dangerous. They were handsome against tanned skin, and they made him look hardened. But when his angel’s cheeks turned a beautiful rosy pink, he realized that maybe that softness was better. He loved to see Aziraphale blush. It made him feel proud and attractive and loved. 

And slowly rosy pinks became his secret preference, at least if Aziraphale was involved.


	93. Adam/Wensleydale: Experimenting (Sequel to the Wensley/Warlock dealio)

Adam paced about in Hogback Lane, waiting for Wensleydale to come back from changing his clothes to something more suitable for nature than a sweater vest. He personally didn’t care much about his clothes. He would much rather get forgiveness than permission, and his mum wasn’t very surprised by the teen boy’s behavior. Adam was rowdy, but he was also active and smart and open-minded and a leader. Overall, she believed she’d lucked out.

While he waited, he dug out the snack he’d packed in his backpack for the two of them, along with the blanket they could sit on. It wasn’t much, not even close to fancy, but it would be sure to do fine.

Wensleydale parked his bike by Adam’s. “Afternoon,” he nodded, and then found himself fixing his glasses. 

“Afternoon,” Adam nodded. “I packed snacks. Figured we could go picnic.” 

“Actually, my mum does-”

“Still like you to come home with an appetite. You will,” Adam reassured with a smile.

“Okay…” Wensleydale got off the bike, Adam following suit. “What did you want to show me, Adam?”

“Oh, I found a great place to picnic,” Adam responded, though, in reality, he wanted to show him more intimate things than some pretty scenery. He couldn’t scare Wensleydale off, though. “This way.” He slung his backpack over his shoulder, hugging the blanket and food to his chest.

Wensleydale followed, used to letting Adam lead. They traversed through some familiar paths until Adam took a different turn, and Wensleydale found them both in a grove of trees, a small, secret river meandering its way past. There wasn’t the sound, or evidence, of any other humans in the vicinity.

Adam laid out the blanket in the middle of the grove, sitting down with Wensleydale and unpacking properly. “Pretty serene, huh?” He asked, looking over at the other teen with an eager grin. 

“Yeah, really is,” Wensleydale murmured. “Can’t believe we’ve never been here.”

“Oh, I have. I keep it like this. It’s a good place to be alone.”

“But now I know where it is- and I’m here,” Wensleydale protested, a bit confused and concerned.

“I don’t mind being alone with you,” Adam said. “‘Sides, we need to be alone right now.”

Wensleydale’s stomach twisted. “Why is that?”

“Because I want to talk with you about yesterday night,” Adam explained. “And I thought I ought to bring you somewhere secret to do that since you were worried.”

“We don’t  _ need _ to talk about anything, do we?” Wensleydale gripped onto his right sleeve, looking at the blanket to avoid Adam.

“I would like to. You don’t have to be scared, Wensleydale. I won’t hurt you or tell anyone.”

The smaller’s lips quirked at that. “So then… What  _ do _ you want to talk about?”

“You said you were experimenting, right?” Adam asked, getting a nod for a response. “Well… Why do it with  _ Warlock?  _ We hardly know him.” And he was stuck up and rude and suchlike. Adam was great at believing he had moral superiority.

“Because… well… some of it was his idea, and he’s nice nough when you get to know him a bit, and…” It was low-stakes. “It’s not as risky.”

“Risky? But you hardly know him,” Adam protested.

“Exactly! If… say, this sort of stuff happens- or doesn’t- it’s easier to experiment with someone who I don’t have a lot of investment in. I can be awkward and mess things up without having to be concerned about ruining anything with someone I know. And if I’m not into guys, I was just experimenting.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you messed up with me.” Piercing blue eyes met Wensleydale’s. 

Wensleydale’s cheeks got warm. “But what if you caught feelings and I didn’t like you back? And besides, it’s our first time trying dating and kissing and stuff what if we broke up and broke the group?”

“Wensley, if we ever took that chance, you not romantically loving me wouldn’t break the group. I wouldn’t let it. I want to stay with you and Brian and Pepper forever. No matter what.”

“How can you be sure?” Wensleydale asked.

“Because… Our group is one of the things I love. I’ve known you for so long.” Adam looked at Wensleydale softly. “I want to keep this just like you.”

“Then why not iron out relationships somewhere else?” Wensleydale asked.

“Because. Yesterday when- how do I say this? Okay… I… I want to experiment, too. With you, if you’d let me. And I’d rather do this stuff with people that I trust.”

Wensleydale looked at him warily. “We’re not experienced, though.”

“But we care about each other enough to work through our mistakes… That summer when I got Dog and the apocalypse started… at the end of when I… did all those terrible things to you all… I thought you would never forgive me. That I’d be alone. But all of you did. You let me try again to be better. Ever since then, Wensley, I’ve felt that our group is inseparable. We can work through anything. I have no problem with exercising the same patience and compassion and forgiveness you all gave me. I kind of want to return the favor. And… I want to experiment and see how close we can all be… so I’d like to experiment with you too, Wensley.”

Wensleydale listened, his heart racing. “What if we-”

“I truly believe we’re stronger than that. We can take what the world throws at us.” 

Wensleydale sighed, his stomach flipping in fear. He looked down. “Thinking about kissing you… It makes me more nervous than with Warlock.”

Adam listened patiently. “Isn’t that kind of good?” He grinned, his cheeks warm with elation as his heart beat a happy melody.

“Well- er.” Wensleydale looked down. “Adam… I’m kind of scared,” he mumbled, embarrassed.

Adam gently went to cup his face. “You don’t have to be.”

“But… The stakes- and what about Warlock? I don’t want to cheat or anything.”

“You two were just experimenting, right? Not dating?”

Wensleydale nodded, rubbing his arm.

“Then it’s not cheating. You’re not together. It’s just experimenting.” He gave a little smile.

“Mm…. You’re sure?” He looked down.

“Always.” Adam smiled. “Come on… It’s just experimenting. Let me experiment, too.” He looked in his eyes, ducking to do so.

Wensleydale smiled, his heart skipping beats. Oh wow, he was really nervous, but Adam was really cute, and he seemed sure. “It’s just experimenting. No promises,” he murmured.

“I understand,” Adam said, leaning in and cupping his face. He was so small… so cute. He wanted to protect him, kiss him, and love him, and he wanted to prove their love was safe.  
Wensleydale looked into his eyes for a moment, taking a shaky breath before he closed his eyes and took a leap of faith.

Adam smiled, closing his eyes as he kissed Wensleydale. He was clunky and awkward and over-eager, but he loved it. 

Wensleydale kissed him for a while, his mind racing. Adam insisted they eat after a bit of time, but both boys quickly fell back into eager lip-locking.

That night, Adam revelled in the sound of a very flustered Wensleydale telling him he couldn’t stop thinking about it and what a mistake it was. He smirked.

“Tomorrow, then?”

“Same place after school,” Wensleydale muttered, feeling helpless.


	94. The Them: Spin the Bottle

Brian was… scared. Scared was actually a polite understatement, but his fragile ego needed to keep  _ some _ dignity. He stared at the Pepsi bottle. Either he was going to get smooched or pissed off friends. He really wanted to partake in the former.

The doorbell rang and he hid the bottle in his room, his heart racing as he himself raced to the door. His mum was already pinching Wensleydale’s cheeks as she helped him in. His mum had always wanted a bigger family, but since his dad was gone, she’d seemed to just adopt his friends.

It worked out well, despite some casual embarrassment on the now-barely-teenager’s behalves.

“And you come in, Wensleydale. Dinner isn’t ready, yet,  you’re early as always, but, oh, good, Brian, you did come down. You two can go run off and play, but dinner will be done soon.” The woman smiled, patting Wensley’s back towards Brian, happy to dote.

Brian gave a shy smile. His mom was a bit embarrassing, but she was strong and kind. He was grateful to have her, so he didn’t acknowledge her embarrassing him on accident… generally.

“Come on, Wensley,” Brian said, grabbing the other’s stuff to feel helpful, romantic, and just a bit stronger.

The boy nodded shyly. “You don’t have to-”

“I wanted to anyway,” Brian dismissed with a nervous smile. “It’s been a while since we all had a sleepover. I’m glad Pepper could come.”

“Yeah… My parents sounded pretty annoyed by the sociology paper letter… Especially since it was 15 pages. They gave me their lecture instead.” He groaned.

Brian laughed. “Apple doesn’t fall far… What did your parents say?”

“They went between making me promise not to touch her and scaring me with STDs.”

Brian laughed harder. “That’s harsh. But… I mean, of course, you’re gonna touch her. It’s a sleepover.”

“And we will pretend I keep an arms distance between us at all times.” He rolled his eyes. 

Brian grinned. Good, he needed the teenage rebellion if they were going to play spin the bottle. “Right. Of course. We’ll probably hang out in my room most the time anyway.”

Wensleydale nodded. “Your mum seemed excited.”

“She is. She’s always happy to see you guys. She’d adopt you if she could. She’s cooking something special, actually.”

Wensleydale smiled. “Well, that sounds nice. She’s a great cook.”

“Yeah, and she’ll try and fatten all of you up for it.” He grinned. He always carried a few extra pounds himself. She loved to spoil him.

Wensleydale laughed too. There was a call that dinner was sone, punctuated by the doorbell ringing.

The two boys left Brian’s sanctuary, meeting up with the ever-punctual Adam. It wasn’t a surprise Pepper (and especially her mom) always ran late.

“Oh, Adam, dinner is just about done. You boys go wash up, okay?” She pinched his cheek.

Adam didn’t react. “Right. Pepper should be along soon,” he said, leading the posse to obey.

They’d all be finished washing up when the doorbell rang its final time for the night.

“Oh and Pepper, you’re here. Good to see you, my dear.” She didn’t pinch Pepper’s cheek anymore. She did pat her shoulder, and sent her to wash up.

The Them waited for Pepper before returning to the table to find an array of breakfast foods. The spread was heavenly, but it also spread the table. Brian sat down with a grin. Breakfast-for-dinner was a time-honored and well-loved tradition.

The young teenagers ate their fill as they filled in Brian’s mom about school and clubs and whatever other projects they were doing. She listened happily to the chatter, loving to provide for them and encourage their growing bodies to have their fill. They were  _ good _ kids.

Once they’d finished as much as they could (it was almost evil to say no to the woman’s food and effort), they went to Brian’s room after setting their dishes in the sink and giving the woman a thank you.

Brian closed the door behind him with a little smile. “It’s been a while,” he said softly. “It’ll be fun to do this stuff.” He couldn’t help but be excited to remember the tired, silly little talks that their loopy brains would come up with at 3 a.m. He was  _ ready. _

“Yeah… too long. I’m glad I could actually come without stupid parents thinking I’m gonna get knocked up.” Pepper sighed.

“Exactly! We wouldn’t do that kind of thing!” Brian said, and then found himself in a puddle of shameful embarrassment. “I mean…”

Adam took the cue to step in. “Brian, do you still have that N64?” He asked.

“Oh, uh, yeah- yes- mmhm!” Brian went to set it up. “What game?”

“Mario?” Adam suggested.

“Ew, too much save the princess crap.” Pepper scrunched up her nose.

“Got Donkey Kong,” Brian shrugged. It had a monkey at least.

“Let’s try it,” Pepper said.

They played for a little while, taking turns. Adam and Pepper played most, with Wensleydale liking to watch and Brian not keen to fight to play if he could sit by and watch Wensleydale.

But Adam was the type of person that wasn’t content focusing on one thing for too long.

“What else do ya got?” He asked Brian.

Now was his chance! Brian ignored his clammy hands. “Well,” his voice cracked. He determinedly ignored that as well. “I have a more… er, teenage game.” He gave a shy smile, gripping his arm.

“What game?” Adam asked, intrigued as he studied Brian like he was a prospector.

“Well, we don’t have to- but we’re teenagers now! And I figured if I’m playing this game- well, I may as well play it with you all first- I want to.”

“What’s the game?” Wensleydale asked nervously.

“Spin the bottle,” Brian said shyly, retrieving the stashed Pepsi bottle and giving it a little shake as he set it in between them.

Adam watched him, doing his best to hide how eager he was. It was all coming together! And he didn’t have to interfere! “Well, I think that sounds like a fun experiment. What about you, Wensley?” He looked at the smaller, smirking.

Wensleydale blushed. “Could be fun…” But then he’d have more people that he was thinking too much about kissing! Who was he kidding? He wanted to make the bad decision.

“Pepper?” Adam asked.

She chuckled. “Well… I would rather watch, so I’ll pay my tax now..” She gave each of her boys a brief kiss.

“Right. Then it’s settled.” Adam smirked.

Brian gave a shy grin. He was just kissed! One down! “Who goes first?”

“Hmm… You go first, Brian.” He said, wanting to indulge his eager heart. It was adorable.

Brian nodded dutifully, spinning the bottle. It was a bit light for the task, so it bounced up and flipped about more, but it pointed mostly at Adam.

Pepper reclined on the bed against the wall, pulling out her sketchbook and some pencils from her bag. She wasn’t good at drawing humans, or most anything yet, but she wanted to try to immortalize this. It was nice.

Adam crawled over, a devilish look in his eyes as he cupped Brian’s face. He shared a moment of gazing into nervous black orbs, his thumb appreciating the smooth curve of his chubby little cheek.

Brian gulped, looking into Adam’s pure blue eyes as he held him gently. His knees felt weak. And then Adam leaned in, closing his breathtaking eyes, and kissing Brian.

Brian closed his own eyes, eagerly smooshing his face closer to Adam, his movements jerky and sudden. It was a clunky sort of kiss, but Adam was still learning, too. And when Brian wrapped his arms around his neck, he swore he fell further.

They kissed for a short while, Adam pulling away with a grin. Brian met his eyes once more, laughing to release the pent up happiness. He felt so special!

Pepper let out a little wolf whistle, laughing. “Good work, boys.” She winked.

Brian laughed more, hugging Adam giddily. Adam grinned, rubbing his back.

“How was that?” Adam asked.

“Nice… I liked it. Um, what about?” Brian’s stomach knotted in concern.

“Oh, it was amazing. You have nice lips. I think we could do better, though. Practice and such like.”

Brian grinned so wide he thought he’d split. “Well, the game isn’t over yet. Your turn, Adam.”

Adam chuckled, reluctantly letting Brian go. What a brilliant boy to set this up. He spun, a grin on his face because any outcome was a win.

It landed on Wensleydale. Adam grinned, doing his little crawl over. “You ready?”

Wensleydale giggled. “Am I ever?” He flirted.

Adam laughed, sitting by him. Brian and Pepper watched, Pepper reminding herself to bring up Wensley’s response later. Adam leaned in, kissing Wensley’s face as the other kissed him happily. He was probably the most confident.

Adam pulled away with an indulged sigh. “Keeping me busy?”

Wensleydale laughed.

“You know, for that, I ought to get my turn to kiss Wensley- without a spin,” Brian said, eager for his turn.

Wensleydale raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Don’t get too ahead of yourself, though, okay?” It was just a game… He didn’t want Brian to get the wrong idea.

Brian looked sheepish. “I won’t…” He was just so excited! “May I, though? Please?”

Wensleydale blushed to see Brian so unsure. He took the bottle, pointing it at Brian. “Your turn.”

Adam chuckled as Brian bounded over, pulling Wensleydale into a messy kiss that the smaller giggled through.

The night was filled with more such kisses until their lips were chapped and sore and philosophical musings sounded better anyway.

Brian was so glad he took that chance.


	95. Aziraphale/Crowley: Titanic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't heard the story about Francis Baker on Drunk History, I just love the idea of Crowley being him.

“Don’t let go,” Crowley begged, gripping tight onto his angel as he was scooped up from the sea.

Aziraphale nodded, his heart tense. He couldn’t let Crowley sink the Titanic alone, but now he couldn’t even despair the lives lost because Crowley was the last man on the ship, under the name of Francis Baker. And Francis made sure all the kids he could save came out fine, and he helped women after that lest they be carrying kids. He didn’t take a boat for himself. He just got sloshed and saved the lives he could.

Aziraphale pulled Crowley up on board, carrying him to the giant ovens they were attempting to heat people up in. He ignored as his favorite demon- well…  _ being _ asked for more booze and got even drunker. He didn’t let go, entering the oven with Crowley. Miraculously, it went without protest.

Aziraphale was soft, and as he held Crowley he kept his promise, rubbing his arms and back as he warmed up the demon as well as he could

Even when his dear boy was demonic he couldn’t help but be good. That was one of Aziraphale’s favorite things about Crowley.


	96. Aziraphale/Crowley: Eyes

Aziraphale shivered as bright, golden eyes were uncovered once more. Such eyes stopped time and could start wars, and Aziraphale always longed to bask in their brilliance.

Crowley always seemed to embody warmth. Sunshine, golden eyes, tanned skin, and luxurious auburn hair echoed the environments he was suited for. And the way his long limbs lazily stretched out on Aziraphale’s couch as he settled in, well… Sometimes Aziraphale believed he was a blessed (and beloved) sinner.

“You okay?” Crowley asked, studying the angel’s eyes in return. They were a blue that begged fluffy cumulonimbus clouds to accent. They were a blue that bright green treetops ought to compliment. They were a blue lying in a beach days’ skies and shores.

And then that striking white hair and pale skin. Perhaps his hair was meant to be the clouds. It was as unruly as they tended to be, if not more. He thought briefly of beautiful mountains crests. He was cool-colored, but with how warm-hearted he was Crowley sought him out.

“Of course, dear boy. I just can never get enough of your eyes.” He chuckled shyly, ducking his head to try and hide the rosy dusting upon his cheeks.

“Me neither.” Crowley smiled, looking away.

Aziraphale grinned, kissing his cheek. He was in love.


	97. Aziraphale/Crowley: Shopping and showing off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a post that essentially was like: Why not enjoy shopping with your girlfriend and enjoying how cute she feels and looks?

Crowley pulled on the Italian suit jacket, pursing his lips as he tied up his hair. He slipped on his sunglasses, fixing his collar and sleeves. He opened the changing room’s curtain, looking at Aziraphale.

“What do you think, Angel?” He slunk out, a smirk tugging at his lips as he watched the angel glance up from his book, stutter as he set the offending literature aside, and give Crowley his full attention with vigorous positivity. Crowley couldn’t help but glow when Aziraphale’s eyes dutifully and  _ loyally _ followed him.

“Oh, dear boy,” Aziraphale was transfixed. The clothes were nice, he wouldn’t lie, but watching Crowley slink around, grinning and smirking- well  _ that _ was what he was truly gay for. Crowley looked as though he felt he was worth the world, his shoulders back and chest puffed out. “You know, I don’t believe anyone was supposed to look this breathtaking. It’s unsafe.”

Crowley laughed. “You’re such a dork, Az.” He grinned. “So, picture this.” He hugged him from behind, nuzzling their cheeks together, Aziraphale laughing as he tried to crane his neck to look. “You. Me. These clothes. A dinner at the Ritz as we feed each other and drink a nice bottle.” Crowley grinned.

“That does sound quite marvelous, my dear boy, but I’m afraid if you’ll be dressing like that I must request an edit to the plans,” Aziraphale said gravely.

“Oh?” Crowley asked, raising his eyebrow with a smirk. The way Aziraphale was acting- it must be good. 

“Well, I do believe that after our nice little dinner you, your suit, and I ought to retire to the bookshop, and maybe we could spend some time without it.” Aziraphale flirted with an almost guilty and approval-seeking grin.

Crowley tended to praise his efforts flirting regardless. He grinned. “Oh? An outfit that makes you request to see me strip in  _ public? _ Well, you sold me, you naughty man. Don’t start calling me Asmodeus again, now.” Crowley laughed, swinging around in front of Aziraphale with a level of confidence even roosters would envy.

They shared a kiss.

Crowley pulled away, looking at Aziraphale giddily. “I think it’s time for the next one.” He grinned.

“Well don’t make me miss you, my tempter.” Aziraphale laughed, letting his eyes linger on Crowley how the demon loved. It was wonderful to shop with him like this.

“Oh, only enough to keep the feelings. Distance makes the heart grow fonder.” He tilted down his shades to wink at his doting boyfriend and revelled as he watched Aziraphale fall further in love. Weak in the best way~. He swung back into the changing room, closing the curtain behind him. He loved being a tease.

Aziraphale sighed, picking up his book again with his heart full. He smiled, thinking of Crowley’s eagerness to show off to him. He couldn’t understand why anyone wouldn’t love to watch their significant other(s) show off to them. It had only strengthened their relationship, and despite what others may think, Aziraphale craved giving Crowley even more confidence.

Crowley slinked out again, Aziraphale easily setting aside his book. He hadn’t read a word, daydreaming about Crowley easily took precedence.

The cycle continued, Crowley feeling attractive, tempting, and loved. Aziraphale, in return, sucked up the images of his favorite, wily, tempting serpent, eager to absorb the memories.

At the end, Crowley convinced Aziraphale to try on a suit. It wasn’t tartan, and the angel was unsure, but beautiful serpentine eyes and pleading please (coupled with a reminder it was just trying a suit on) and it was all it took to win Aziraphale over.

Aziraphale stepped out, wearing a periwinkle jacket and vest, along with dark brown slacks and shoes and a cream button-down. Crowley waited until he stepped out to affix him with a peacock-colored snake-skin patterned bowtie. Aziraphale preened into it as Crowley put it on him, feeling domestic.

“Well, I must say you do have a fashion sense,” he praised Crowley. “And I look dapper, it’s just-”

“It’s not you at the end of the day,” Crowley finished.

“I’m glad you understand, my dear. I know you tried.”

Crowley smiled. “Thanks anyway.” He pecked his lips.

Aziraphale was right, he looked best in his own style. Crowley just needed to see it to know. It was a great day, though.


	98. Adam/Wensleydale (The Them): Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some minor PTSD Feels(TM)

Wensleydale didn’t yell. He just stared in horror as he watched the world change. He knew he was powerless, and he knew he was powerless to change Adam’s mind. Adam was his own boy with a raging mind hell-bent on destruction. And he had nothing he could say to stop that.

Wensleydale gasped, waking up in a cold sweat. Dog stirred, crawling over Brian and Pepper to sit in Wensleydale’s lap. The man slowly ran a trembling hand over him as his mind flashed with memories he wished he could forget. 

Adam sat up, rubbing at his eyes. Dog was missing? He looked over, finding Wensleydale in a horrified trance. Dog looked at Adam loyally but continued to do the job most important.

Adam got up slowly, going to make the man some tea. He came back with it perfectly warm, rubbing Wensleydale’s back gently as he gave it to him.

The man gasped, blinking rapidly. He took the cup, confused for a moment, but sipped it, out of it. Adam let him fight his trance for a while longer before he sat in front of him at the head of the bed. “Wensleydale?” He asked softly.

Wensleydale gulped, taking a deep breath. “Yes?”

“Are you alright?” He asked gently.

“Yeah, fine.” He took another sip of his tea. “Just… just a bad dream.”

Adam frowned. “Are you sure?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He didn’t want to make Adam feel worse. That was never the goal. 

Adam frowned. “Alright then. Well… Feel free to wake me up if you need- or, whatever. I’m here for you… I won’t let anything happen to you. It’s all safe now.”

Wensleydale nodded shallowly, remembering how it felt to scream without a mouth- live without a mouth, be trapped against his own will, his body his prison. It was horrifying. He finished the tea. “I ought to sleep. I have things to do tomorrow.” He muttered.

Adam frowned. Something was wrong, but… he was powerless to help if Wensleydale wouldn’t tell him. “Of course.” He kissed his forehead. “Be safe… and take it easy.”

Wensleydale nodded, getting back in bed when Adam moved. Adam wordlessly commanded Dog to stay with Wensleydale, and their sleep resumed.

He still wasn’t free of the memories.


	99. Aziraphale/Crowley: Rose colored

Crowley thought that he loved reds. They were passionate, fiery, cool, and dangerous. They were handsome against tanned skin, and they made him look hardened. But when his angel’s cheeks turned a beautiful rosy pink, he realized that maybe that softness was better. He loved to see Aziraphale blush. It made him feel proud and attractive and loved. 

And slowly rosy pinks became his secret preference, at least if Aziraphale was involved.


	100. Aziraphale/Crowley: Cute Snake moment

Aziraphale watched as Crowley slowly began to curl up in a coil. He pressed his little snoot between two of the folds, his tongue darting out lazily.

He swore he fell further in love every day he watched the silly little snake. He was such a sweet little thing, especially when uninhibited by his human fears. And he adored Aziraphale back. It was one of his deepest accomplishments, and it had been won from beating back his cherubim self and being gentle, patient, and slow. Now Crowley would seek him out.

He gently booped the little snoot, getting an offended yawn. 

This really wasn’t fair.


	101. Aziraphale/Crowley: A constant

It was always easiest to relax when Aziraphale had Crowley within arm’s reach. He loved when his dear boy was rested against him, laying in his lap, or even coiled around his neck. There, he could keep him close and safe, and he could benefit from being able to hold his dear boy and spend whatever quality time they could share.

But perhaps Crowley was just a comfort. Six thousand years and most of their lives by a large margin left Crowley to be his biggest constant. Aziraphale loved to keep things longer than he ought to, and he always had one foot in the past, appreciating what was and why it was. Crowley, though very obviously contemporary, still held a few remnants of the past, and he was part of Aziraphale’s past for all this time.

He was irreplaceable, his longest friend, and his favorite company. He wouldn’t be the same angel without him, and he wouldn’t want to be different, even if he turned out to be “more good” by Heaven’s standards. He loved Crowley so much that even if he believed Crowley made him worse (which Aziraphale most certainly did not), he would still desperately keep him with him.

He could see eternity stretch before them when they were together, and when he was alone it puttered into darkness. He was ready to face the world if Crowley were there, but alone he dragged himself through, his mind fixated on Crowley or one of his favorite distractions.

His cocoa had grown cold. His distracted thinking had failed him, and he picked up the telephone. It was 2 a.m., now, by far not the intention. He called Crowley anyway, and his heart lept when his demon picked up.

And then he found himself knocking on Crowley’s door, a grin on his face. 

Even a day was too long without him.


	102. Aziraphale/Crowley: I don't want your heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Human AU

_ "I'll give you my heart,”  _ Ezra said, looking at Anthony’s face as he stared at the web of lies.

_ "I don't want your heart,”  _ Anthony growled, tears surging to his eyes. “I want your truth! I want to trust you! I want to be supported by you! How can I trust you when you lie like this!?” He gripped at his hair, tugging it in hopes that maybe it would distract him.

Ezra felt his mouth go bitter at the sight. “Anthony,” he said gently. “I… I didn’t want to hurt you. That’s the truth. It’s just- I think… I think I’ve gotten into the habit of lying, and I do it and I can’t backtrack. I don’t want to lie, it’s just- it always happens so I just lie more to cover my tracks and hope that… well… people don’t see the truth. I just… I know that the truth of me is so much worse than the fiction.” He looked down, idly toying with his fingers. “I’m sorry. I should have told you, I just- I realized really quickly that I wanted to keep you around, and so… I didn’t want to chance telling you this because I knew you might leave.”

“Ezra… Everyone’s fiction is better than their truth, but...  I just feel so betrayed that you lied to me like this. And you let it happen for so long. You could have just said the truth that you had lied at any point, but I found this out for myself.”

“Anthony, I’m sorry-” Ezra began. 

“I am too!” Crowley snapped, before he took a deep breath. “I just… I need to think this out. It’s not over, nothing’s done, I’m just… Ezra…”

“I’m sorry, Anthony, honestly,” Ezra repeated hopelessly.

Anthony gave a weak smile. “I need to go think. You… should think about how to get this to stop.” He turned, leaving Ezra to his own devices.

Anthony really knew how to pick ‘em, huh?

 


	103. Aziraphale/Crowley: Frankenstein!Au Good-intentions

_ “I’ll give you my heart,”  _ Zaphale pleaded, his hands baring his chest to reveal thin, translucent skin, a black, beating heart with pale blue whispers of veins connecting it all.

_ “I don’t want your heart,”  _ Anthony said, looking at him wearily. “I’d want your kidney, but I don’t want that either.”

“What one is the kidney?” Zaphale asked slowly, looking down at his torso.

Anthony gave a weak smile. He felt he would barf soon enough. It was his fault for drinking so much, though. “By your stomach, my dear.”

Zaphale looked at him, moving closer. “Show me?”

Anthony gave a slight smile, gently pressing the spot where he had put in one of the kidneys. “Right there, my Zaphale. Right there.”

“My doctor… You look bad. Please, let me give you-”

“Zaphale, I’m not a match. It won’t work, even if you try.”

Zaphale frowned, crouching in front of him. “How do I save you?”

“I need a matching working kidney. I don’t think you can get that, though.”

Zaphale watched him. He would take it if he needed. “Tell me how to tell if it matches.”

Anthony was wary, but he gave in and told him, figuring Zaphale would take from the dead as he had. He didn’t expect a fresh bloody kidney delivered, his monster’s hand covered in spurts of blood. He didn’t want for this to be this way, but it had already been done. He couldn’t undo the past, just use it to his advantage.

He would speak to Zaphale later.

 


	104. Aziraphale/Crowley: Frankenstein!AU A reprieve

_ "Can you hold my hand?" _ Zaphale asked, meeting honey-colored eyes that sweetened his gaze at a glance. He had always loved those eyes. He wished his own weren’t so pale and lifeless. He wished he were as pretty as Anthony.

_ "I already am holding your hand,”  _ the doctor protested, a spritely giggle arising from his throat. That was one of the best things about Zaphale; he always knew just how to make Anthony feel loved. He was his god in ways he didn’t intend to be, but Zaphale treated Anthony like he was his universe instead. He felt irreplaceable. And yet one day...

_ "My other one. Both of them,”  _ Zaphale insisted innocently.

Today was not that day. Anthony had to remember that. He didn’t have to worry yet.

He took Zaphale’s other hand, kissing the knuckles. Zaphale watched, utterly transfixed, his gargantuan heart skipping beats at the sight. It was delicate, and it was appreciative. His doctor was not commonly so delicately affectionate. It made such a sight worth more than all of the hand holding and forehead kisses he usually imparted upon him. It made him want to do all of the things that hid further within the chapters of his books of romance. It made him want to speed up.

Anthony met his eyes. “Are you okay, Zaphale?”

“More than, my doctor,” he said loyally, unable to stop a grin. He squeezed the hands gently, before taking each one and kissing the knuckles reverently. “Thank you,” he murmured lovingly as he switched.

Anthony went red, unable to compete with such dutiful, intensely loving service. “Well, you seem happy,” he said to fill the air.

“I always am with you.” Zaphale smiled up at him, and Anthony remembered exactly why he found himself gleeful in such morally dubious positions. He was a rotten man, but a rotten man who was finding himself unable to catch himself from falling in love.

This was their alluring, sweet, homely reprieve, and it always would be.


	105. Aziraphale/Crowley: Frankenstein!Au Dreams

Zaphale looked at his hands. They were so big in comparison to his doctor’s. He loved that. He hoped that Anthony did too, after all, he was made in his image. He looked over to the sleeping form. He was such a kind doctor, despite his protestations. He moved his chair quietly, sitting beside him. He watched his still form grip the covers as though they were his armor, and Zaphale gently- ever so gently, ran a hand over his hair. 

He loved his doctor.

He watched the man relax into the petting and found himself continuing. He was so pretty, and his hair was so soft, and he was warm. Zaphale craved such warmth. He craved the day where he could encapsulate his doctor in his body, holding him tight as he sat in Zaphale’s lap, and drink in that soothing warmth. Such a fantasy became a dream when he pictured Anthony’s small, nimble fingers brushing over his cheeks to cup them. One day- if he was good enough, maybe one day he could have such a wonderful moment with his beautiful, cunning, compassionate doctor. 

He would be the best he could be if he could have something like that.

Anthony stirred at the petting finally, the continuous motion growing jerkier by the daydreaming, and it disturbed his own senseless visions. Zaphale instead rested his hand on his head, staying still and watching him intently until he fell asleep again. It was good enough.


	106. Aziraphale/Crowley: Just one yesterday songfic

When Crowley first saw Aziraphale all he could think of was how to tarnish that bright, innocent halo that adorned his sacred head. He obsessed over how he could drag something so perfectly good down with him, down where he felt the true good had to lie. He wanted to see Aziraphale choke on boiling sulfur, losing his rose-colored glasses as they melted down his cheeks into stained-glass tears. He wanted him to feel the pain he did, to go down the darkness that he had to all for questioning if they really were as good as they ought to be.

But when Aziraphale socked a man who was all too forward and persistent for touching Crowley without permission, Crowley felt himself regret the past. Armed police officers telling Aziraphale not to say a word lest it be held against him, and Aziraphale only spoke of Crowley. He couldn’t understand wanting to hurt something so loving anymore. He felt he was bitter.

He waited at the police station, his mind tearing itself apart to think he might be withheld from his angel long. Such a thing Aziraphale may shrug off, but Crowley would be in agony to be apart from the one who made him feel just a bit more human. But… if Aziraphale would be taken, Crowley found that he would like to trade all of his tomorrows for just one more bar scene. One more act of sheer love.

Aziraphale was out within the hour, miraculously. He could feel Crowley stewing, and he couldn’t stand it. He approached his favorite serpent and melted when he was hugged, holding the man.

He was in love, and he was in the love that had already lost its rose-tinted falsities. It was true and pure, but mostly, it was his- no, theirs. And he loved it for that too.


	107. Wensleydale and Aziraphale: Dust

Wensleydale stepped into Aziraphale’s bookshop, fighting back anxieties. He admired the angel. They both loved to read.  
Aziraphale, however, apparently didn’t read enough to stop an unholy amassing of dust from collecting and residing in the air. Wensleydale sniffled, coughed, and sneezed for a week after.  
He was disappointed to say the visit wasn’t worth it. Adam could come next time.


	108. Aziraphale/Crowley: Choosing a side

When they picnicked, he never defended their basket from the ants. They needed strawberry crepes with chocolate sauce more.  
When they raised the Antichrist, he never scared the child or made him ashamed to cry. He was patient and kind. He listened and comforted the young one. He gave affection freely. He became a parent.  
When they kissed, he held the angel close, cherishing him as though his love might fall to dust without it. He ran piano-player’s fingers through tufts of soft white hair and over plump, red cheeks. He revelled to make Aziraphale realize just how loved he was.  
He succeeded.  
But for each of these things that made Crowley happy, he found himself failing as a demon. He was never good at choosing a side.


	109. Aziraphale/Crowley: Jet Pack Blues inspired

Crowley pulled his slim black coat closer to his body as he shivered away the summer. It wasn’t insanely cold, but he was sensitive to the slightest of chills. He hoped Aziraphale would come back down from heaven. He hoped Aziraphale would come home to him.

Meeting days were dreaded by both of them, and they always would be. Meeting days meant they would be scrutinized alone, and, more importantly, they would be unable to take comfort in each other until they returned. Aziraphale usually returned first. Aziraphale was usually back by now.

Crowley held his coat tighter against his lean frame. He was beginning to worry. It was pretty laughable, a demon worrying. It still convinced his stomach this was a crisis that only vomiting would solve. Damn Corporations. He glared at the road in front of him. His mind spiraled into catastrophes.

What if he never came back? The mental whiplash that accompanied a thought like that after 6,000 years should have sent him right into a whole nother dimension… Probably Hell.

He’d waited 6 hours. The night was still young but he’d waited 6 hours. He was tired, but fear prevailed. He’d wait as long as it took. He scoffed at the thought of those dogs that waited years for someone who could never come back. Please don’t make him to be a fool.

A white light descended down from the sky suddenly, and Crowley found himself cussing out a street light for… not being Aziraphale. He kicked it and cussed out himself. He didn’t wear steel-toed boots, and he wouldn’t start, but for a bit, he wished he had been.

Another bus drove by.

“If you take any longer, angel, I’m gonna start in on this bottle without you,” Crowley said, looking up and pretending he wasn’t threatening air. He still couldn’t rid himself of the fear. He wanted to go home. He would rather be home with tea than here sucking down booze they were supposed to share. He wanted  _ sleep _ , too. Somewhere safe and warm. He couldn’t here out in the openness.

Another bus drove by, passing a block before it stopped. A man stepped out, looking around wildly with eyes only his angel could emulate. Crowley got up, the world a bit blurry as he grabbed Aziraphale, his angel hugging him in return.

“Crowley- I thought you would have left- gone home,” Aziraphale said, cupping  _ his _ dear boy’s face.

“Not without you. I told you I’d meet you here.” His voice was quiet and breathy. He was safe.

Aziraphale smiled, cupping his face. “I see… Quite the loyal demon,” he giggled.

“Shuuut uuuuup,” Crowley groaned, grabbing Aziraphale’s hand to lead him to the Bentley. He didn’t need him looking at his face.

“You owe me tea… and booze… and covers… and a bed… and…”

“A meal, perhaps,? All I’m happy to give, my dear boy, if you save the booze for once we’re home.”

Crowley sighed, giving a small smile that he couldn’t help. “Don’t take so long.”  
“I know, dear boy. I didn’t mean to. You must be freezing, here, my coat-”

“Has tartan lining! And it’s  _ white _ .” Crowley bemoaned.

“It’s not  _ white _ , it’s cream!” Aziraphale defended.

“That’s worse!” Crowley whined, grumpy now that he could be tired and sad and complain.

“Oh hush, now, it’s warm. I’ve worn it all day. If you have your coat on you won’t even feel the tartan.” Aziraphale took it off, proffering it.

Crowley sneered just to be snotty as reluctantly put it on. “I wouldn’t have to come near tartan at all if-”

“I know, dear boy. I didn’t mean to get held up.” Aziraphale squeezed his shoulder. His poor demon.

He grumbled, sinking into his chair. It was warm. He liked that. It also smelled of books and dust and tea. It was Aziraphale and his bookshop in a garment, and though Crowley hated tartan, he couldn’t hate that. He was still trying to beat back his intense, mind-numbing emotions.

“Make me food when we get home,” Crowley implored. It was too weak to be a demand, but Crowley never… well, hardly ever, begged. This wasn’t that. That only came around when Aziraphale would cut to black in his journalling.

It was still endearing to see Crowley be soft and tired and weak. It was endearing to be able to be asked to take care of him. “I’ll make us something nice. We can have tea and drink and eat while watching James Bond on a pile on the couch. And when you’re warmed up and tired, if you fall asleep on my chest I promise I’ll stay still.”  
Crowley took a deep breath. “Angel,” his voice was almost as broken up as he was.

“ _ My dear _ boy?” Aziraphale responded softly, the only strength in his voice emphasizing his love.

“For a little while there… I… I was scared,” Crowley mumbled, starting to drive.

“Why?” Aziraphale asked gently. 

“I thought I lost you… or would.”  
“Dear boy, I would never let you lose me if there were anything I could do to prevent it. You’re my best friend..”

Crowley nodded slowly. They drove home, Aziraphale doing what he could to distract and care for Crowley. His demon was asleep against his heart not 2 hours later.


	110. Aziraphale/Crowley: Jet Pack Blues Inspired (Human!AU)

Anthony pulled up his hood, scrunching down as frigid rain froze him. Maybe he did move too fast. He always was keeping busy, hipping from one thrill to the next. He was going skydiving next week, even! And Ezra… well, he didn’t go slow, but he went slower. Instead of craving the future and all of its wonderous inventions, Ezra fell in love with the nostalgia of the past. He even would go to the historical recreated events. He also wove outdated fashion and kept old books.

No wonder they were having problems. But how could Anthony  _ not _ crave the future? Life kept getting easier, more rational, kinder, more exciting, and it kept changing more and more rapidly.

He wouldn’t drown himself in the past and not love what the world was becoming.

But there was less constancy. Ezra may feel that meant a shrinking home that he watched be lost. And, that made some sense, but change was what made life interesting and intriguing. 

Sometimes he felt to oppose it was unhuman.

But even though Anthony loved his future and his change, he loved Ezra too. He stopped in front of a dusky motel, knocking on door 001. Ezra opened it after a moment.

“Anthony.”

“You didn’t come home.”

Ezra sighed, opening the door further. Anthony went in, shedding his coat as Ezra prepared him tea. As he waited, he cocooned himself in tear-stained covers. Ezra sat beside him, proffering the mug gently. It was just how Anthony liked it.

The cocooned man sipped at his tea. No one could make it like Ezra. After a few sips, he sucked in a breath. “You didn’t come home,” he repeated stubbornly.

Ezra sighed. “I didn’t. I didn’t intend to see you again tonight,” He explained. But after seeing Anthony - well, he couldn’t turn that down. He may get sick!

“I was worried about that,” he murmured, taking another sip. “Sometimes it feels we’re living in 2 different centuries. It’s hard on me and it must be hard on you, too.”

“Anthony,” Ezra warned warily. He was tired.

“I just want you to see the magic of innovations. And- I mean, without change we probably wouldn’t even be together- of we’d have to hide. But… you love history, and you like to keep to your comfort zone until you know it’s safe. I probably seem pretty reckless- and scary.”

“Dear boy, I know the future is brilliant, but… you always seem to be running around doing things. I crave a few nights in cozied up. I just can’t go running around everwhere like you.”

Anthony paused. “Wait- that’s all?”

“Dear boy,  _ yes _ \- It’s quite tiring, and then you get all upset- even if it’s the quite kind. It sounds like you thought it went further, though?”

Anthony flushed. “Well! You just said that and left and you’re kinda oldfashioned sometimes and I’m-!”

“Not old fashioned in the slightest. I know. And even though it’s tiring occasionally, it is one of the things I love about you. You keep me young and in touch with the world today.”

“I thought you hated that,” Anthony said.

“I… I don’t. I just get tired. And I hope that you can love some history too. It’s just so fascinating.”

Anthony softened. “Then… will you come home?”

“This motel has continental breakfast in the morning, and I’ve already paid. You’re welcome to stay the night, though.” At this point Ezra just wanted his poor boy to feel better and stay warm.

Anthony nodded slowly. “Okay… I’m sorry. I just… You really scared me. I thought it was serious.”

“I’m sorry, dear boy. But I am tired, and I thought I’d go mad. I need some nights in.”

“... Can I still be with you?”

Ezra softened. “I would love if you were. I do love spending time with you- and I love you.” He met those amber eyes that always twisted his stomach up.

“I love you too. So much.” Anthony set his tea aside, hugging Ezra tight. “I really do.”

Ezra smiled. “I know, dear boy.” He rubbed Anthony’s back. “I do as well..” He kissed his forehead firmly.

The night devolved into warm cuddles and soothing tea, with lazy, loving conversation punctuated by some lip-locking. It was a perfect night in for what it was, and Ezra loved watching Anthony doze off into dreamland secure on his arm.

He already felt better.


	111. Aziraphale/Crowley: Pain

Aziraphale was a thinker. Not a philosopher like Crowley, but he thought and over-thought often. Right now he was overthinking how much pain Crowley had endured. TO begin, he’d had the fall, something he’d only cringed when he’d been asked about it, and had said he believed it attempted to burn all the goodness it could out of the new demons. Shortly after, he was permanently marked by an evil he felt misplaced, watching how his philosophies about how to do and be better were abandoned for brutish, pained sadism. Then, he finds his body morphing into a snake, found Aziraphale, and found that angels were still who he fit in best with. Six-thousand years pass where he has to think of the good, right thing he’d like to do, and do the opposite. Six -thousand years he lives in fear he’ll be found, asks for a most deadly insurance because he has to0 he had to. And he watches Aziraphale live a life he lost trying to do better.   
Aziraphale was glad he took the tire iron. He was a soldier. Crowley never was- he believed not even in heaven. Not only that but… if Aziraphale could start taking some pain he would like to. Because Crowley was perhaps the most human of Heaven and Hell, and Aziraphale felt that was something to aspire to and protect.   
He also couldn’t like that the feelings he held begged him to protect his boy.


	112. Gabriel/Raphael: Massage

Gabriel stared in stunned silence, his cheeks burning like a furnace as he took in Raphael’s scrunched up, hunched up form that let his wings command the air around him. A pale, moonlit back glowed, and white, fluffy wings looked like the most ethereal dream’s brilliance.

He approached slowly, his mind pulsing in eagerness.

Raphael looked back to him, his emerald eyes twinkling. “You don’t have to do this,” He reassured, noticing Gabriel’d nervous demeanor.

Gabriel shook his head stubbornly. He was enthralled. “You should feel better, too,” he explained.

“Well, thank you.” Raphael smiled, passing Gabriel some lotion. He turned back, settling as Gabriel prepared himself.

The first touch made him jump. He wasn’t exceedingly used to being touched, bu the subsequent rubbing left him sighing as knots he couldn’t reach were unwound His wings fluttered gently in pleasure.

Gabriel sighed happily seeing Raphael looking so relaxed. He was just adorable. He worked diligently, eager to please and to touch him. When he was don he preened his wings, not wanting to stop. He loved watching Raphael’s reactions to being pampered.

And when it ended they both felt so much closer. Close enough that Gabriel found himself unable to stop thinking of his favorite angel.


End file.
